


thirteen months

by blifuys



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Graduation, M/M, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Minor Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Minor Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Post-Canon, School Carnivals, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Third Year, Third Year Hinata Shouyou and Kageyama Tobio, Third Year Tsukishima Kei, Third Year Yachi Hitoka, Third Year Yamaguchi Tadashi, high school shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-01-15 02:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18489277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blifuys/pseuds/blifuys
Summary: youth/juːθ/nounnoun: youth; plural noun: youths1.the period between childhood and adult age.In his final year of high school, Tsukishima struggles with growing up. Together with the challenges of being Karasuno's next generation vice-captain, he learns to let go of his fears over the span of thirteen months.





	1. march

**Author's Note:**

> WELCOME TO THE END.
> 
> I'm kidding, welcome to this new multichap kurotsukki fic I'm starting! I really always think very much about the first years in their third year of high school, and so I finally decided to sit my ass down and fuckin write it~~
> 
> i hope you guys enjoy!!
> 
> as always, thank you for reading, and please do leave kudos and comments!~ <3

_i. march_

Like the gentle ebb-and-flow of the tides, the snow slowly melted away and the soft, earthy colour returned to the plains of Miyagi. On the trees, on the roads, on the sidewalks and even outside the gymnasium, he saw the white _ume_ petals scattered all over the ground like confetti. Basking under the gentle soft orange glow of the sunset blanketing over the area, the petals had followed them to _Sakanoshita_ ’s on their usual after-practice walk, where stomachs growled for food.  
  
They say that with winter, comes an end, and with spring comes beginning.

 

“It’s hard to think that this is our last practice with the third years,” Hitoka had waited until Ennoshita finished passing around the brown bag, sadly gazing down at the little bun she held in her small hands. Even when Daichi had left the club, the tradition of after-practice pork buns had continued without any complaint from their current captain. He would never tell this to anyone, but Tsukishima secretly found the weekly treat comforting, like a constant in his life.  
  
It was kind of surprising how Hitoka wasn’t bawling her eyes out, especially since she was the one person who got along with everybody in the club. Tsukishima suspected she had _already_ cried, or would do so at the ceremony tomorrow. Hitoka sighed and lifted the bun to her lips, taking a bite as she gave no indication of knowing what was on Tsukishima’s mind.

 _Pop._ As he poked the sharp end of the little straw into the foil circle at the top of the milk packet he held in his hand, Kageyama looked thoughtful. For a few days now, the setter had turned up at practice with that wistful distance in his expression - like a fog settling on the mountainside on a quiet morning.

Tsukishima did hear from Hinata earlier in the day regarding what had gotten Kageyama so down in the first place. It wasn’t like a year ago where they had barely knew each other. Like every new cohort of players added to Karasuno’s flock, they had gotten closer with each challenge they faced together. Against Tsukishima’s initial reluctance (and even in his current denial), the five of them were very close, and they often hung out with each other outside of school.  
  
Once Hinata and Kageyama had found out about his liking for dinosaurs, he knew that all boundaries he had drawn earlier was fuck-all out the window.  
  
This was different, though. Kageyama still had much difficulty actually asking for help, or actually admitting he even needed help in the first place. He had his suspicion as to why, but Tsukishima knew damn well why Hinata was the only one Kageyama sort of confided in. Partnerships and bonds were something incomprehensible to him.  
  
So, as they stood to the side, near the late afternoon sunlight shining down on the gymnasium’s wooden boards in the afternoon sunlight; the remaining second years huddled around together.

“It’s because the third years are graduating tomorrow.”

It didn’t come directly from the setter himself, but the weight of Kageyama’s worries came like a splash of cold water to the face. It was a wake-up call, reminding them of the fact that after tomorrow, there would be no third years. The fact that after tomorrow, _they_ would be the third years.

So as Kageyama silently moped to himself, distant as he had been the last couple of days, Hinata glanced over at him worriedly. Despite his air-headedness, Tsukishima had to give him some credit for being able to read the atmosphere so well. He used to have so much trouble doing so, but being with a team with such diversity in personalities meant that you _had_ to learn, or face the danger of starting fights over well-intentioned words interpreted wrongly.  
  
They all had learned together, after watching two generations of captains guide them along like one of their own. Tsukishima supposed that from the very beginning, they had all become some sort of dysfunctional family, and that was why seeing them all leave had been so hard. Not just for Hinata and Kageyama, but for _all_ of them.

“Why? Getting worried, _His Majesty the Captain_ ?” Hinata laughed, trying to break the setter's dull mood. The redhead's face was already stuffed with bites of pork bun and a corn dog he had purchased, all while earning a glare from Kageyama. It was as venomous as usual, like a viper training its eyes on its prey.  
  
“ _His Majesty_ is bad enough. But _His Majesty the Captain_ ?”  
  
“What? I give credit where it’s due.”  
  
“If it’s from _you,_ I don’t want it.”

“Stop, stop! Trust the both of you to argue on the last day the whole team’s together!” Hitoka squeezed between them, her small body like a little sparrow compared to full-sized crows. With a swift, strict motion, she had pushed the two away from each other, refusing to let them near each other.

Out of everyone, Tsukishima thought that the young manager had grown the most out of all of them. He remembered the days where Yachi was terrified to even _look up at him_ , and she was at the point where she wasn’t scared to tell off the freak pair where needed. The ferocity in her eyes was something first-year Tsukishima would have never thought in a million years he’d witness, but that was the reality now. Everyone and _everyone_ knew not to fuck with Hitoka, especially how surprisingly scary she could be when she got mad.

Like a pair of puppies that had gotten scolded by their owner, the both of them reluctantly pulled away from each other, focusing on the soft, meaty flavour of their buns instead of jumping at each other’s throats.

The silence around them settled, and they stood by and watched Nishinoya jump at Tanaka, trying to steal a bite from the taller boy’s treat. Over yelling and pushing and screaming, it seemed surreal to them, like a movie that played in the comfortable background, and they were the audience. In the evening, a train passed by - speeding on the metal tracks, children in the distance ran after each other and giggled, and the moments passed by - never to return again.

  
“I’ll miss them.”  
  
It was surprising to hear something like that from Kageyama himself, the boy who had openly told the whole team that he just wasn’t _good_ at reading people’s emotions, the boy who had trouble coming to terms with his own. As if very aware of that exact fact, a sharp snicker rose from the short wing spiker. Hinata turned away swiftly, slapping a hand over his mouth.  
  
“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean, you fucker?”  
  
“Being so thoughtful isn’t a good look for you, Kageyama!” A well-rehearsed comedy act. An absolute nonsensical routine they witnessed close to daily. The freak pair jumped at each other like crows honing in for an attack, already beginning to throw insults their way without a single moment of hesitation. While Hitoka promptly began to forcefully pry the both of them away from each other, Tsukishima simply didn’t feel the need to step in and start picking at the both of them like normal. He tuned out all the noises of his team, and settled for silently sipping his warm bottled tea in silence.  
  
The taste on his tongue was muted and subtle, very much like the thoughts that lingered on his mind.

Kageyama was right. Time _had_ gone by pretty quickly, and it seemed like only yesterday that he had stepped into the wide grey gates of Karasuno High School as a first year. Now, days from he and his friends taking over the volleyball club, those days seemed like a lifetime ago.  
  
He looked up from his spot next to the vending machine, honey-brown eyes glancing at the way his seniors bickered, laughed and chatted away, like graduation wasn’t upon them; like they still had all the time in the world.  
  
Some small part hidden inside of Tsukishima wished that time would stand still, just the way it was right now, where he could still stay protected under the guidance of Ennoshita, their captain. Of Nishinoya, their guardian. Of Tanaka, their ace. Of the rest of the third years that had worked so hard to maintain the legacy that Daichi and _his_ third years had left behind.

But it couldn't. Under the evening sky streaked orange and yellow, in the protection of the gentle shower of white _ume blossom_ petals and the chilly breeze that wrapped around them like an embrace, every second that went by would have been lost, and from here they could only go forward.  
  
“Tsukki, something up?” Yamaguchi’s warm body settled down next to him on the curb, and the slightly shorter boy was carrying a bottle of oolong tea. When had he bought that? He hadn’t heard the thud of the bottle in the vending machine slot over his running thoughts.  
  
“Not really,” Tsukishima murmured as he turned his head away, not really wanting to share these needless thoughts with his friend. Despite close to a decade of friendship, he almost always forgot how it was so effortlessly _easy_ for Yamaguchi to read him, as it was for Tsukishima to read his friend.  
  
“That’s your _something’s-on-my-mind_ face, Tsukki.”  
  
In the short silence that followed, he could only rack through his head to carefully organise his thoughts, pulling out and discarding the information as needed. Nearby, the crows caw as they flew into the sunset, toward a destination that no one but themselves knew.  
  
“Tomorrow, we’re taking over the club,” He finally said, twirling the bottle that he held in his hand. Even without looking through the clear plastic, he could feel the liquid inside swirl gently like a mini-tornado, and the movement was calming to Tsukishima as he grounded himself from letting his mind run too far. “Tomorrow, Ennoshita-san and the others are leaving.”

_I’m not ready._

“So, you’re just like Kageyama then!” Yamaguchi smiled, having long caught the unspoken words that Tsukishima couldn’t say. “You’re scared about taking over the club as vice-captain.”

It is worth mentioning that Tsukishima _hated_ Kageyama’s guts. No matter how much time they all spent together and bonded, how much they all got to know each other beyond your usual _hi-bye schoolmates_ type of acquaintanceship, Tsukishima could not explain the utterly irrational need to insult the other boy from head to toe.

Sure, it was childish, but _some people_ in the recent past had told him to act more like a highschooler, didn’t they?  
  
But even so, he couldn’t deny this one. He couldn’t deny that he felt that kinship with Kageyama in this situation where growing older was just imminent.  
  
For the first time in months, since the day Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei had broken the news to them, the weight of the title had fallen heavy on his heart. The adults had named Kageyama as the next captain in line, with Tsukishima leading beside him. But that was it, even if Kageyama was basically stepping into his Kingly role, Tsukishima was the weak link - _the black hole._

In his life, he had seen different types of leaders. Ranging from strong (like Daichi) to absolutely ridiculous (like Fukurodani’s Bokuto), he had seen them all but he could compare to none.  
  
Sure, maybe he was looking at the wrong bracket of leaders. But looking down a peg was no help either, because the vice-captains he had met all had the same trait in common: they were able to support the team and their captains. He had watched Sugawara guide them like a father and bonded with Tanaka who had cheered them on like an uncle. The question he had to ask himself was simple, _who would he be to the next generation of crows?_

“I don’t think I’m ready at all,” Tsukishima gently murmured, his voice uneasy and rocky as if he had so much emotion concealed beyond a facade, and that was usually the case with him. He sighed, the tension in his shoulders so visible as he looked away. “There are countless other people who are more suited for the position. Hinata? You? I am simply a middle blocker, it’s all I do.”  
  
“That’s where I think you’re wrong, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi interrupted, his smile still as bright as ever. Even as they grew older, the freckled boy’s faith and trust in his best friend lingered and grew, never once faltering even as Tsukishima stuttered. “I think you make a really good leader.”  
  
“ _Sure,_ Yamaguchi,” His tone spoke bounds of how doubtful he was of himself, of Yamaguchi’s words. There wasn’t ever a time where he could think of himself leading anything, much less a mob of unruly crows that couldn’t ever sit still for even a moment. There were many moments he _could_ think of where he _wasn’t_ meant to lead, many _people_ that he believed he would never in a million years catch up to. Who was he to hope to be as great as the people he had met over the years?

What was a captain to him? A captain was someone who was strong, who carried the pride of his team on his shoulders no matter where he went. They could be from anywhere, from the lush green plains of Miyagi, from the sun-soaked beaches of Okinawa, even within the urban mazes of Tokyo.  
  
Captains were supposed to be people that their teams could look up to, and rest their worries upon their shoulders.

Beyond all those thoughts, his heart sank in his chest as he realised how unprepared he was for what was to come next. It wouldn’t be too late for the coach and Takeda-sensei to reconsider, and Tsukishima was heavily considering asking both of them to reassign the title of vice-captain to someone else.  
  
Right as his thoughts began to run, a soft and gentle hand rested itself on his shoulder, and Yamaguchi gently squeezed, all the comfort he wanted to offer in that simple action alone. It didn’t stop the rush of negativity that had spread through his body, but the fact that Yamaguchi was there to even comfort him was just… nice, to put it simply.

In hindsight, this internal vice-captaincy debate probably wasn’t as deep as he was making it out to be. Vice-captains didn’t necessarily need to play in official matches, and they didn’t have any extra duties in them too. Still, that fact alone did not help with the fear that shook his very core.  
  
None of that mattered to Yamaguchi, though. He wondered if there had been a mistake, if Yamaguchi should have taken his place, for he would be _much more_ suited for it.  
  
“One day you’ll see what I mean, Tsukki. I promise you, you’ll be a really good vice-captain.”  
  
And for that moment, under the flurry of blossom petals and the sound Tanaka screaming about the loss of his pork bun, Tsukishima believed him.

 

Time is fluid. It was a curious thing, how it went by so fast when you didn’t want it to, and slowed to a grind when you just wanted to get a move on. As if the gods themselves had heard the fears and doubts in Tsukishima’s mind, the night had passed with such swiftness that Tsukishima wondered if he had accidentally travelled through time when he closed his eyes in bed that night.

 

Standing on the second-floor catwalk of their usual gymnasium, he watched as his club members chattered amongst themselves while waiting for the seats on the first floor to fill up one by one. As usual, the freak pair had been fighting over something so small and insignificant that he just couldn’t be bothered with even listening to them. Besides, something else was making his mood dip today.  
  
He wasn’t used to the crowd at all, and he definitely did not expect to be this irritated at the sight of parents, students and the staff filling the space up to the very walls, seated on the chairs that had appeared overnight in neat blocks. To Tsukishima, the sound of balls ricocheting off the walls and filling the air had come as a default, alongside the team’s little puzzle pieces of conversation that happened every afternoon.

But what Tsukishima wasn’t used to, was how _suffocating_ the air felt. He could feel it, over the sounds of people talking and laughing and the crowd atmosphere was the feeling of _ending_ , a goodbye that hung over their heads like a red flashing light that no one bothered to address. He didn’t like it one bit, where it had affected even the crowd of students situated on the second floor catwalk with him. Hinata and Kageyama had even managed to stop bickering for a moment, in favour of just watching the seniors take their places.  
  
He hated it, this feeling.  
  
Like all other formal ceremonies filled with pompous grandeur, there were speeches. Of all things that was already causing the usual scowl to form on his lips, the principal’s annoying window-wiper voice droned on and on about _blah blah blah entering society blah blah blah proud young adults blah blah blah onward little ones into the great big world_ and things along that line. Tsukishima didn’t know. He had shut out his voice when the principal began talking about his own family being Karasuno High alumni.  
  
“I think Tanaka-san is tearing up,” Hitoka giggled next to him, a soft little snort that was barely audible by anyone else. As if on cue, a bald boy down on the first floor reached up with his sleeved arm, wiping away at his face after checking if anyone else was looking. It was something so unexpected, but had such a big powerful effect on Tsukishima. Out of all the third years, he wouldn’t have expected Tanaka to begin crying.  
  
Then came the diplomas.  
  
Such a simple ceremony, one that required all the seniors to collect black tubes that held their ticket to adulthood - a piece of paper with their name on it. When had the world put so much emphasis on paper, he didn’t know, but Tsukishima wasn’t going to begin questioning it. Besides the occasional stunt on stage (especially with that _ridiculous_ ‘ROLLING THUNDER’ that Nishinoya had pulled that earned laughter from everyone and a glare from the staff and Ennoshita himself), it was a solemn process that had the least hiccups. At least it went by really quickly.

“Congratulations to our graduates!” The teacher smiled as she asked everyone to rise, earning applause and the sound of chairs screeching against the wooden floorboards. He knew what was coming, he understood that this was simply what everyone did during every end-of-school ceremony. Crying was a given at any graduation ceremony, no doubt, but like every unexpected thing that happened today, he did not expect crying to happen _right in the middle of the school song._

Over the speakers situated at the front of the gymnasium, right by the stage, the melody of trumpets, drums and flutes crackle slightly through the air, and the united voice of the student body and staff joined together in a harmonious choir.

_“Karasuno High School,_

_We spread our wings and soar_

_In the lush green plains we aspire_

_To fly high above all_

 

_Oh, Karasuno High School,_

_Under the sky that spreads so blue_

_  
_ _Our Mighty Karasuno High School_

_Where all our dreams come true.”_

 

By his own observation, Tsukishima had noted two things, mainly how the school song was _only_ properly sung during sports matches and graduation (where school patriotism was at an all time high), and how even the worst of enemies could seem like friends on the last day of school. Humans were a strange bunch, he mused. High schoolers seemed to be the most abstract of them all.

The rest came in a flurry, and soon they were all outside, huddled together as the boys said goodbye to each other.

  
  
“TANAKA-SENPAI, NISHINOYA-SENPAI, ENNOSHITA-SENPAI,” Hinata yelled through his tears. Sure, he had seen the redhead get teary eyed after some matches, or even on off days, but seeing Hinata _actually cry_ was something that he hadn’t seen before. Guess today was filled with surprises. “PLEASE COME BACK TO VISIT US OFTEN!”  
  
Hearty laughs filled the air, and like a group of uncles at a family reunion, the third-year trio couldn’t help but wrap themselves in a group hug around Hinata, all sharing promises of coming back to visit the nest as much as they could.

It was a heartwarming scene, something out of a shonen anime. The flurry of _ume_ petals, the little groups of high schoolers all split up across the courtyard of the school, and goodbye hugs and selfies taken and given sporadically. Near the school gate, club had gathered with all the third and second years, as well as a few first years that had come to say their thank yous to their outgoing seniors.  
  
A year ago, he would have felt uncomfortable with the friendly contact, but he was hardly the boy he was then. He had come to think of this team as family, as a bunch of annoying uncles and brothers and sisters that he secretly really cared about it. When Sugawara, Daichi and Asahi left them, the imbalance had left him struggling in the first few weeks.  
  
Yet, it was that time of year that he remembered painfully how nothing was permanent, how people left and people joined every year, breaking and forming the team all the same.

While he listened to the third years talk about how much they would miss them all, how it would take them all a while to get used to not attending practice daily, there was something lingering heavy on Tsukishima’s mind.  
  
They hadn’t shared much of their plans to the second years. He had a vague idea of what Ennoshita was planning to do, but aside from that, he didn’t have it in him to ask. It seemed that some things he wanted to leave alone in favour of focusing on training and actually getting back to Nationals. But now that Spring High had come and gone and graduation was upon them, he didn’t really have much of a barrier to stop him.

Yet, even still, Tsukishima simply couldn’t bring himself to even ask, even at the very last moment.  
  
In actual fact, it all really boiled down to how he didn’t know where he himself was headed, where he should be going when his time came to leave the nest and _‘onward little ones into the great big world’_ . Asking them was easy, but he had a nagging feeling that asking would only drive more confusion in the snarky young man’s heart. Sometimes, actually having options could be more suffocating than not having options at all, at least that was what he thought.  
  
“Oi, oi, oi. Now that we’re leaving, make sure to make us proud,” Ennoshita smiled, his usual gentle-yet-menacing smile that only the members of the team were privy to. There was no one in Ennoshita’s class that really knew much of how scary he could really be when he wanted to, when he was busy scolding the team for being too noisy or for doing something absolutely mindblowingly stupid.

  
Against his wishes, Tsukishima had been on the receiving end of that smile a couple of times, when he had been dragged into a few of Kageyama and Hinata’s stupid antics, and when he was busy trying to frustrate members of opposing teams. Now that graduation was over, there was no more seeing that smile on a daily basis, and it unsettled Tsukishima deeply.

“I can’t promise that, Ennoshita-senpai! Now that Kageyama’s captai--” With a swift slap of a hand over Hinata’s delightfully mischievous mouth, Kageyama squeezed his fingers down on his cheeks, already uttering threats of ending Hinata’s life should he have chosen to complete that sentence. Yamaguchi laughed, nodding and assuring their seniors that the team was being left in good hands.  
  
“Hey, don’t worry so much about it, Chikara! He may be an absolute bitch, but Kageyama’s pretty good at leadershipping!” Nishinoya laughed, his hands on his hips as he threw his head back.

“How you graduated with _that_ kind of vocabulary is beyond me, Nishinoya-senpai.”  
  
Like the flick of a switch, Nishinoya’s smile drops, and the small senior jumped at Tsukishima, snarling like an angry dog having his food stolen from him.  
  
“Whaddya say, you brat? Show some respect for your elders!”

Despite the confidence that the seniors showed for the new choice of captain, the current captain himself was a little unsettled, with worry written all over his expression. Right after Tsukishima had escaped from the angry clutches of the little libero, he found himself being stared down with a sleepy-eyed gaze, all business and no play.  
  
“Is something the matter, senpai?”  
  
“It’s all on you now, Tsukishima, you’re the only one in the team that won’t set the gymnasium on fire.”  
  
He absolutely could not tell if he was being sarcastic. How dare all these people have faith in him, he thought. This unquestioning faith was what led empires to ruin, what led people to be conned and what led Hinata to actually believe that Santa Claus was real up till his 15th birthday (It was Tsukishima’s present to him).  
  
“How do you know that I won’t be the person to make the team crash and burn though?” He said, sarcasm dripping fully from every word he spoke. Even so, Tsukishima believed it. He really did believe that him being vice-captain was a terrible idea, and there really wasn’t a moment that he thought that he could rise up to the challenge.  
  
Instead of beginning to argue with him, however, Ennoshita quietly handed his tube to him to hold, before lightly grasping his biceps with his hands. The hold was firm and strong, but filled with so much trust. In front of Tsukishima was the captain, silently passing on the torch to him, the hopes of their third years and those that had come before them resting in the hands of the tall boy and his team mates, _his family._

“Because it’s _you._ ”  
  
Tsukishima never liked vague answers. He like order in his life, knowing the answers to the unknown and such. Even so, as ambiguous as it was, he somehow got the gist that the answer was _just that_ straightforward. Ennoshita had made it sound so easy, _so simple_ , and that in itself was surprisingly calming.  
  
For a fleeting second, the confidence that the older boy had shown sparked something in Tsukishima’s heart, like the flickering embers from a fire starter.

  


Graduation felt less of a _goodbye_ than a _see-you-later_ , with promises all around that there would indeed be visits and catching up sessions, even just a simple outing to Sendai City.

In the last few weeks of March, just before the last of the _ume_ blossoms fell clean off the tree , replaced by _sakura_ blossoms; practice had gone by quite uneventfully. Many of their current first years had to be trained to match up to the previous regulars’ skills, and they had to be brushed up on even the most basic techniques.

It was the curse of being Miyagi’s top school. While the majority of benched players kept themselves up to standard in the event they had to be swapped out, some of them had relied too much on the strengths of their regulars to the point where the skill gap was obvious.

From the get-go, he already began feeling the lack of leadership that he was supposed to have, and oftentimes he found himself at a lost as to how to properly coach his juniors. Catching the stares didn’t help either, with gazes so _expectant_ and so _respectful._  
  
He felt bad. Mostly for the juniors whose expectations of a really cool vice-captain senpai would no doubt be thwarted.  
  
On one particularly rainy day, with the rain soaking everything to the very core outside, the gymnasium doors had slammed open, bringing in Takeda-sensei in his usual track suit and slides. The small man looked ecstatic, maybe hopped up on steroids from how excited he seemed to be.  
  
“Everyone! I have an announcement to make!”  
  
Inquisitive looks all around, the sound of shoes squeaking against the pristine wooden boards, and the sound of balls being bumped and bounced halted. Tsukishima panted lightly, leaning over slightly in exhaustion from a particularly lengthly rally he was having in their three-on-three games. Of course he had to make up for the lack of skill on their side of the court. But today had been a pretty bad day in itself, the emotional fatigue had begun to manifest in his stamina sometime in the last hour.  
  
“Takeda-sensei?” Hinata deserted his spot on the other side of the court and sped towards the teacher, quite interested in what he had to say. Of course he would be excited. Takeda-sensei pretty much only ran to the gymnasium when there was some big news! If he was lucky, there would be details of a particularly yummy practice match waiting for them on the paper he held in his fist.  
  
“Everyone, we have a practice match coming up soon!”

And of course, like the simple-minded dimwit he was, Hinata had lit up like a fucking Christmas tree at the simple mention of a friendly match. But ever since Karasuno’s first taste of victory at Nationals two years ago, requests had come in from all over the prefecture and even neighbouring ones.  
  
Friendly matches just wasn’t something to go stupidly hysterical over.

Matches were very useful material for Tsukishima, though. Especially with how he had blocked all sorts of blockers and adjusted his techniques accordingly thanks to the opportunities their well-deserved national fame had brought them. But at this point, they had so many practice matches to the point where Hinata knew at least one person from each team they had fought against.  
  
However, it had been a while since Takeda-sensei looked that excited. It was quite reminiscent, bringing Tsukishima back to the days where they had to beg Nekomata to let them into the Fukurodani Academy Group’s training camp. These days, admittance came easy, and the team made frequent trips southward to play against Nekoma and the rest of the schools.

Takeda-sensei grinned, and he unfurled the crumpled paper he held.  
  
“But not just _any_ practice match, this time we’re up against a college team!”  
  
While high school practice matches had become a norm for Karasuno, matches against college teams were rare. Colleges had power players of their own, so for them to target a high school out in the countryside? Of all schools he had expected to come initiate a challenge, the last thing he had anticipated was a college making this request.  
  
“UOH! A college? We’ll play with _adults_!” Unlike other power players in the country, Hinata had never let his mastery go to his head. Despite his obsession for fame in his first year, the redhead had slowly matured and grown, coming to terms with the fact that he had so much more to learn. However, like his idol, Hinata reigned in airborne battles now, having tons of techniques hidden up his sleeve.

This was an opportunity for him to learn even more. _Want to be even more feared huh, Hinata?_ Tsukishima rolled his eyes at the hysterical wing spiker next to him, carelessly waving the ball around.  
  
“Maybe they want to start scouting?” Kageyama added in. For whatever reason he thought that was helpful, Tsukishima knew it _wasn’t._ Anything that got Hinata to start wiggling and fidgeting like a caffeinated five year old was _not helpful at all._  
  
While the whole team began to murmur among itself and speculate about the reasoning behind a college team eyeing them, Coach Ukai raised his hand to silence them, giving Takeda-sensei a chance to continue speaking.  
  
“This time, we’re playing against Tohoku University! They’ve asked us for a practice game, and they will be hosting us in their gymnasium! Supposedly, there are some players they’re eyeing, so I expect everyone to be on their best behavior!”  
  
While the second years seemed to be pretty excited, the first years were a _lot more excited_ than them, and little bubbles of conversation started to form amongst the little groups in the team.  
  
“Wow! Tohoku U!”

  
“You think their cafeteria food’s good?”  
  
“I heard their floors are concrete!”  
  
“The more you all talk, the less you all practice. The less practice you get, the more you can _forget_ about even being a challenge against them,” Raising his voice above the bothersome chitchat from the team, his words were coated in venom, and the juniors just _knew_ that he was mad. As if they had been scalded by boiling water, they all winced and recoiled, before hurriedly scurrying back to what their previous positions.

“Wow, got a stick up your ass, you stingy beanpole?” Hinata pouted, like he had tasted something sour. _Trust you to ruin the mood!_ His expression was clear as day to Tsukishima, yet the tall boy simply couldn’t give a fuck.

“Nah, just a normal day of handling your species.”

After peeling the angry fun-sized wing spiker from his front and ignoring all of his furious ranting, Tsukishima went back to his side of the court, promptly going back to their match that had been held on pause.  
  
Only a fool would say they were ready. Karasuno, as they were, was in shambles. Half of their regulars had left, leaving empty spots behind. They didn’t have a regular libero that was as great as Nishinoya, and they didn’t have another wing spiker that could easily replace Ennoshita and Tanaka. There was an inkling, the hushed voice at the back of his mind telling him that victory would not come easy to them, seeing how much of a disadvantage they were at.

However, in spite of the obvious, there was just a little bubble of pride that swelled in his heart. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been in situations like this before, where their team had gone through a reshuffle after a graduation.  
  
Come spring, endings and beginnings intersect. It was an annual ritual, where crows have to shed old feathers and grow new ones. Maybe years ago, the change would scare him. Heck, it scared him even _now._ He wasn’t sure of what would happen, especially now that he held such an important spot in the club.  
  
The secret love he had for his family of crows was strong, however, and he knew that they would be able to overcome any challenges that came their way.  
  
As Tsukishima leaped and stretched forward, his lanky limbs over the net while a ball ricocheted off his arms, his lip curled into a smirk. He was ready for challenges. Be it from Tohoku U, or even from within their club itself, he wouldn’t go down without a rightful fight.

Besides, his trust he placed in his members was strong, and he knew that they wouldn’t hand victory on a silver platter to the college kids just like that.

  
Outside the gym, the last _ume_ petals blow in the storm, falling off one by one until there were none left.


	2. april

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first duties as vice-captain begins, and a match with the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am not lying when i say i sprained my arm while writing this chapter.
> 
> as always, kudos are always appreciated! comments are very welcomed too! 
> 
> and thank you so much for reading this, i hope you have a good day/night/week/weekend ahead!

ii. april 

_“Passion rebuilds the world for the youth. It makes all things alive and significant.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson_

 

There are laws in the world which, no matter what, should _never ever_ be broken.

These laws weren’t over the top. They were extremely simple and universally known. Things like how you should always follow the skip-one policy when taking seats or occupying urinals. _That_ was pretty important, and nobody ever questioned why.

Some days, days like these, Tsukishima wished silence was one of those sacred laws. Like a library, only that the library was as big as the entire world. God would be that librarian in the sky, storming into the sinner’s home and slapping fines on them with terrifying ferocity.

Come to think of it, librarians were pretty fucking scary. He would explain why, but it was too noisy to think of reasons why.

Tsukishima couldn’t really hear his own thoughts right now. It was just the yearly occurrence, fresh meat coming into high school with eyes shiny with hope and dreams intact. Annoying? Yes. With all the noisy bodies squeezed together on the stairs, the hallways and the locker area, it took him a lot of self-discipline to not ‘accidentally’ on purpose kick someone in the ankle and start a whole domino chain of students.

With painful, irritated reluctance, the tall and lanky boy squeezed himself in the gaps, trying to make it to his classroom in one piece while ignoring the mindless chatter that _shouldn’t be heard at all_ over his ‘noise-cancelling’ headphones.

Tsukishima wasn’t one of those freshmen that made an absolute fool out of themselves on their first day, but he had witnessed his cohort mates get up to all sorts of weird antics over the years. Compared to the fresh meat now, they all had an air of sophistication to them. Two years was a heck of a lot of time, and many of them had matured through so many experiences.

He was one of them. Going through two Interhighs, two Spring Highs and training with two different team makeups – it had taught him a lot. These were lessons he knew that he would keep in his heart for a very long time. It was just part and parcel of growing up.

They had all grown, all of them. Mentally, physically, emotionally.  
  
The fact that he was a third year now had yet to really settle into his bones, etching itself into the very marrow of his core and making itself known. It felt more like a little band-aid on his skin, where there was still the option for him to pull it off if he so wished to.

Some part of him still felt safe. Like there was a safety net under him, stretched out to catch him in case he fell. The safety of having one more year before he had to start worrying about what came next, the safety of having seniors leading them while he simply followed obediently.

That was the unfortunate thing about getting comfortable. When you were just so used to having something, it was an absolute given that you would struggle when that thing is gone. Nothing was permanent, after all.

This year, the taller boy shared classes with Yachi, since he had been bumped up to the first college preparatory class. The look on Yamaguchi’s face when he had found out was honestly hilarious, twisted into a unique mix of emotions.

“Oh! Congratulations, Tsukki!” Happiness.

“This means we won’t be able to be in the same class…” Sadness.

“Yacchan’s in your class?!” Jealousy.

As much as Yamaguchi loved to brag about how his best friend was an open book to him, he always failed to realise how _easy_ it was for Tsukishima to tell exactly what he was thinking. The taller boy had always been extraordinarily observant, but the amount of time he had spent with Yamaguchi growing up gave him an insight into the entirety of the freckled boy’s inner world.

Tsukishima stood at the white sliding door to his classroom, under the sign displayed boldly above the door like a trophy.

_Class 3-5._

There was practice today, and the third years would meet up during lunch as usual, hidden away from the entire student body in their little established ‘nest’—a quiet little corner on the first floor close to the gym entrance, the third window from the left.

Now that they were third years, that wouldn’t change at all. He would still wait for Yamaguchi before heading to their spot, he would still hear Hinata and Kageyama’s bickering echoing down the stairway, long before they would even step foot on the first floor. The five of them talked about anything and everything, and Tsukishima listened more than he spoke.

These people were family now, whether he liked it or not, and he secretly didn’t have any complaints.

Outside the windows, the pink trees swayed gently in the wind. The breeze drafted in through an open window nearby, and he could hear the soft chirping of the birds – carefree, liberated.

Before anyone noticed him, before anyone could call his name, Tsukishima turned to his side and walked into his new classroom. There was some time before more people would start to settle down, so he would pick his seat.

It was always the same one, no matter what year he was in. The desk next to the back window, where he would almost always have a perfect view of the mountains, spanning across the whole stretch of horizon as far as the eyes could see. Of blue skies, the beautiful expanse connected to the world at large, beyond this tiny high school set in a small town in Miyagi.

\---

Karasuno High School usually gave freshmen one week to sign up for clubs, one week for club committees to round up as many newcomers as they could and herd them into their clubrooms with sparkly promises of fun, memories and friendship. And, as unnecessary as they always were, the volleyball club _always_ had some weird plan to beguile rookies into their circus troupe.  

Two days was all they had before the club fairs, two days of working together with only two and a half braincells split between all of them. If he hadn’t already lost five years off his life being around buffoons daily, he would certainly do so in the next two days.

“Alright, we now commence our meeting,” Hinata pointed at the notebook he placed on the ground, in the middle of the circle they formed under the window. “Today, we need to settle our recruitment game plan!”  
  
For some reason, the team had appointed _him_ to take charge of recruitment efforts, and so they had to suffer.

“Wow. He learn big word, _wow_ ,” Tsukishima drawled slowly, opening the top lid of his bento box with a pop. “Congrats, at the rate you’re learning you’ll be able to ace the middle school entrance exam on your second try!”

“Middle sch…--?! OI, TSUKISHIMA!” Hinata yelled, quickly leaning in to grab at his collar. They were like magnets—no matter where he lunged for, Tsukishima always moved away in time, repelled from his movements. Right before the smaller boy could grab his shirt though, a small hand locked itself around his wrist, pulling his entire arm back with some struggle.

“Not now, not now! We need to focus on this,” said Yachi, her lips pulled down at the corners so far that it was clear that she wasn’t entertaining any of this. “If we waste more time over your bickering, we won’t be able to recruit anyone because we don’t have a plan!”

Normally, Tsukishima wouldn’t care. He didn’t really care about the number of rookies they took in. Last year, the club saw staggering number of newcomers after their stint at Nationals. It was as if the news of their battle in Tokyo spread throughout the lands of Japan, proclaiming to the world at large that the crows had once again spread their wings and took off.

Many rookies had dropped out after a couple of months.

They had their reasons. Shit like ‘training is too hard!’, ‘what’s the point of playing if I can’t make the regulars?’ or even ‘I didn’t think volleyball would be like this’. Excuses, all of them.

The irony. Barely two years ago he would’ve agreed with these kids. Now, he scoffed in their faces.

“Don’t we already have a plan? Ennoshita-san and Tanaka-san left their documents and stuff with us,” Kageyama’s words were barely audible over his chewing, speaking over mouthfuls of riceball. “Last year’s club fest’s plans are in the folder too.”

“Last year was _boring_! B-o-r-i-n-g! Flyers and brochures? We’re trying to recruit, not put to sleep!” Hinata slapped a hand on his open notebook with agitation, as if _offended_ that Kageyama would even think of suggesting something like that. He pulled back his arms and folded them, sizing himself up to assert himself over the four people he suddenly had so much power over.

Tsukishima had a very, very bad feeling about this.

“As your honourable organising chairman—”

“Really? That’s what we’re calling you now?”

“AS YOUR HONOURABLE ORGANISING CHAIRMAN, I insist we do something unique and new for the club fest! We can’t be a powerhouse without a HUGE CLUB, like Shiratorizawa—”

“I don’t know where you hit your head if you even _think_ that we can compare to _the_ Shiratorizawa, owner of their own fucking equestrian field and a _diving board_ ,” Kageyama snarled, his face curling into a stormy frown, eyes narrowed and filled with hostility. His hands reached out and curled into Hinata’s chest, grabbing the fabric of his black uniform and yanking forward.

Like a little bug trying to escape from captivity, the smaller boy squirmed, writhing in desperation as he tried to pull himself out of his grip.

“Y’know, I think Hinata has a point, actually,” Breaking the mild tension with a carefully timed quip, Yamaguchi spoke with a considering tone, swallowing the last of the food in his mouth and looking down to Hinata’s notebook. As if the bubble had popped, everyone tore their gazes away from each other and focused fully on the fluffy haired middle blocker.

Tsukishima hadn’t expected that Yamaguchi would agree with Hinata, but heck, there was just one rule about being in the volleyball club: expect the unexpected. His freckled friend had grown a lot since they had first entered high school, and Tsukishima felt that his growth was very much akin to a caterpillar evolving into a butterfly.

He was once a quiet, hesitant child, following him everywhere with a small, meaty feast gripping his sleeve for security. Now, Yamaguchi had become a man of his own right, holding his head high in his silent charm, bold and fearless.

“Last year, the swimming club did something really, really cool! I think they practiced this synchronised routine and performed for all the freshmen, and then they got a lot of people joining their club afterwards!”

“Maybe we could do something like that, something unique that’ll put us out there!”

What he said made tons of sense. If Tsukishima hadn’t already known how to play volleyball, the booth that Daichi-san and Sugawara-san put up would have definitely not encouraged him to join. He remembered the miserable looking booth vividly—a long cafeteria table with nothing but homemade posters stuck to the front, swinging slightly as the fan blew at them nearby. They hadn’t had anything to show, just a simple volleyball sitting in the middle between the two then-seniors, while they both tried their hardest to explain what the club was about to their new juniors.

He would later learn that it had been Shimizu-senpai who had created those posters. For someone who looked so composed and poised—he had to admit, at the cost of offending his senior, that she couldn’t draw even if her life depended on it.

The weird stick figure on the posters had _not_ been inspiring, and the aftermath of that sad recruitment attempt went down in history. Four newcomers, later five, and now it was their turn to run the pathetic excuse of a booth.

“We could ask Takeda-sensei if we could open up the gym! Maybe run a mini-workshop?” Yachi piped up, sounding excited already. Whatever outrageous plan Hinata conjured up had been long forgotten, yet he seemed a lot more happier to plan this with his friends in a resolute team effort.

Grabbing the banana-patterned pen that Hinata had brought down with him from his classroom, the manager began to scribble on the blank pages of the notebook laid open between all of them. By the end of lunch period, the five of them had dispersed to their own classrooms, stomachs happily filled and minds running wild with ideas. 

\---

Club fest day was one of the days in the entire year where the school looked like a kid’s birthday party. Streamers hung off the lights, banners pinned up high on the light green walls with brightly coloured words scrawled in bold, big characters. Music boomed through the school, some recycled beat from a mainstream artiste that Tsukishima had no recollection of. Of course Karasuno had a mascot, a decades-old crow outfit that gave off a suspicious smell that was quite telling of how much it had been used over the years. It didn’t come to volleyball matches though, so he could only thank all the deities sitting up in the clouds that the basketball team was the one that was cursed.

Actually, no, scratch that. Club fest day didn’t look like a kid’s birthday party, it looked like a clown convention was taking place right in Karasuno, only everyone was dressed in uniforms and their club attire.

The school would be filled with that cheer and joy from having an day off from being trapped in their classrooms, scrawling down formulas and theories they all couldn’t really give a rat’s ass about. On top of that, it was a day of pride. A day where they could come out to the world and declare to their hearts’ content that _hey, I’m a member of this club and it’s the best club!_

It was especially true for sports teams, with many of them having their collection of trophies out on display, dusted and polished. Gold, silver, bronze cups sparkled and gleamed under the lights, drawing in all that dared to looked at them with silent promises that one day, these rookies would bring back a similar cup of their own. 

Some people loved club fest day, some loved open house day. Tsukishima, on the other hand, hated both. Call him a party pooper, but he didn’t appreciate having to squeeze himself through the endless sea of freshmen crowding around tables in the hallway—sort of like clogs in the plumbing system.

Luckily for him, Takeda-sensei had reviewed their comprehensive plan for the club fest, and hence they were all in the gym, set up and ready to go. The plan was simple enough for him to agree to, without any ridiculous suggestions like hiring a fucking mariachi band and paying them with pork buns. He had dodged several bullets in the last two days, one of them being Hinata’s suggestion for everyone to dress up like crows and stick black feathers all over their jerseys.

“Cause we’re _Karasuno,_ ” he had said, his arms spread out wide like wings of a bird, “We need to look and play the part! We could head to Daiso to get some packets of feathers, and body paint! Lots and _lots_ of body paint!”

With that suggestion, Tsukishima felt his soul curl into a fetal position, withering away with every word Hinata uttered. He immediately shot him down with the angriest glare he could muster.

“Gee. I didn’t know we were called the _Karasuno Theatre Club_ , not the Karasuno Volleyball Club. What’s next? We perform _Hamlet_ with a volleyball as Bernardo?

 _Last night of all, when yond same spike that’s westward from the court had made his course t’illume that side of the scoreboard?_ ”

“I have no idea what you’re saying, but that’s cool as shit. Let’s do it!”

“Absolutely not.”

So here they were, thirty minutes before the first wave of freshmen began to trickle into the gym, one by one. The plan was simple, introduce them to the club, show off some spikes and get someone to receive. Fool-proof, idiot-proof, fire-proof and baby-proof.

Despite seeming calm and composed, there was the lesser known fact that Tsukishima _hated_ public speaking. He had long felt that he was unable to rise up to vice-captaincy, but he knew that there was absolutely no way he could have been able to be captain. Having to interact with the opponent captain every match? Having to manage the pressure to get along with all his juniors?

He disliked Kageyama to the very core, but he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor guy. Daichi had excelled at being a guiding figure for them all; a hallmark of strength and courage. Ennoshita had been more hands-on, ensuring that he connected with every last member of the club. These two captains, while different in their influence over the club, had given them all inspiration to fly, to never let the ball drop until the bitter end.

There was a lot of expectation for him from the club, and the steadily growing number of members didn’t help at all. He couldn’t even _imagine_ what kind of burden he carried on his shoulders, and a tiny part of him felt for the guy.

At least, he felt sorry for him until he spotted his arm in the club room while he had his hands raised above his head, trying to shimmy the shirt down into place.

While Tsukishima had spent all night writing his introduction on small white cards tied together with a lone piece of blue yarn from his mother’s sewing drawer, Kageyama had chosen to write everything on his inner wrist, blue ink and hurried handwriting covering the entirety of his forearm.

He had taken a quick glance at the notes scrawled on skin, and he wasn’t surprised at all to find tons of mistakes—misspelled Kanji all over the place.

Was that white ink streak in the middle of that gigantic blue text block supposed to be correction fluid?

Tsukishima couldn’t be assed to point out the mistakes he had spotted. A ton of them had been words that he had gone over with him and Hinata many, many times in the last few years of tutoring them in between club and class times. Calling him out would make his blood boil even hotter, because _god, they’re so fucking stupid._

Forget feeling bad and all that crap. An idiot was an idiot, and besides, watching Kageyama make a fool of himself was grade A entertainment.

\---

He never liked club fest day. It was too noisy, too crowded, and most of all—he disliked the freshmen with a nasty amount of disgust.

The volleyball club’s recruitment began with the first batch of students, surrounding them at the side of the net, spread out across the entire length of the court. Curious glances surrounded them, and Tsukishima felt like he was a teacher to a bumbling group of kindergarteners—freshly up on their feet and ready to explore the world.

Somehow, the fact that these were impressionable kids made him feel even more pressure weighing down on his shoulders, and he felt his hands tremble as he held them behind his back a bit, like little tremors running through his arms to the very tips of his fingers.

It wasn’t supposed to be this nerve-wrecking. Unlike class presentations where he had to stand in front of his entire class alone, he had Kageyama and Yachi by his side. But at the same time, unlike class presentations, he had no idea who the people were in front of him, and he had absolutely no idea how they would react to the speech he prepared.

Sure. He didn’t care about how many people entered the club this year, they had just enough people to make up a good team, but it did matter to him how this club was perceived.

He remembered how passionate Sugawara looked as he stood behind the long table two years ago, despite having so little traffic passing by. He looked so _pitiful_ then, with only Daichi standing by his side at attention. Nobody gave them any attention, nobody even bothered to take any of the poorly drawn flyers, all stacked up in front of them. But, despite it all, Sugawara stood with absolute pride, chest puffed out and his back straightened out, his body poised in a way that he was declaring to the world at large: _I am Karasuno’s vice-captain._

That day. With a bright smile, as refreshing as he always had been, Sugawara had held out that flyer with the deformed drawing of a volleyball scrawled in the middle, both hands pushed forward, stretched out as he looked at Tsukishima in the eye.

“In the past, we won lots of matches! We were really strong,” He had said to Tsukishima, who had been a stick-thin thing that barely had any muscle. “We haven’t been to nationals in five years, but,”  

“This club is a family. If you join us, we’ll work towards scoring new victories _together,_ as one.”

In hindsight, Sugawara probably didn’t remember whatever he said at that point of time. There was no indication that he did remember that Tsukishima was a part of that small crowd that had stopped by the booth, but what he said that fateful day had stuck with him forever, no matter how many times he had wanted to quit before.

Could he live up to that? The absolutely presence that Sugawara had left behind, the legacy engraved in the club’s history?

This open-gym workshop thing shouldn’t be this nerve-wrecking. Kageyama and Yachi stood there by his sides, like two pillars of support. It didn’t help much, however. Here he was, standing in front of a group of twenty-odd freshmen, all looking to him with expectation, very much like a group of kindergarteners that soaked up knowledge like a sponge. Surely, these kids had heard of Karasuno, and some of them had probably watched them on the small screen, as they danced with such passion on the court, taking to the skies like the crows they were.

Well. This gym was the crow’s nest, and they were all donned in black and orange, ready to welcome newcomers in.

“Hi, everyone!” Yachi greeted them all, freshmen and juniors alike, her ever warm expression like a beam of sun shining down them on a particularly chilly day. She didn’t have much to say really, but her presence alone was enough for everyone to feel relaxed.

That pleasant atmosphere was quickly overridden by a dark, looming tension in the room, right as Kageyama stepped forward as stiff as board, looking like he could eat the souls of anyone who dared to even breathe wrongly in his directly.

“Hello,” He began, quickly bowing towards the whole crowd of students. As if he had swung at them, the crowd took a step back, fearful looks written all over their faces. “We’re the Karasuno Volleyball Club. I’m the captain.”

“We’ve been to Nationals twice. We were the first-runner up last year. We have practice every day after school. Thanks for coming by.”

… Was that all that was written on that arm of his? The fuck? The silence left behind made Tsukishima so damn uncomfortable, but there wasn’t any point to call Kageyama out on that right now. Everyone was watching them, terrified and ready to bolt out the doors the second they were given an opening. He had to do _something_ , and he had to do it now.

With a hurried flip of his cards behind his back, Tsukishima pulled the stack of the white sheets in front of him, and scanned over the neat, skinny words he had written only the night prior.

“… Um. Last year, we beat Shiratorizawa in the Miyagi Prefectural Representation Tournament. So, our school is considered the top in the prefecture, and we’re also considered part of the top three schools in the country,” He began, trying to smooth out the subtle trembles in his voice. Next to him, Yachi had reached out with her tiny hand, gently patting him on his back.

“We head to Tokyo every summer to take part in the Fukurodani Academy Group’s training camp, so we often face other powerhouses on a daily basis.”

It seemed to catch the attention of the sea of students before him, where many of them had started whispering amongst themselves. Maybe they had seen Tsukishima as less intimidating, and simply quieter. Within seconds, the group had finally come back to their senses, and he caught himself heaving a subtle sigh of relief. 

Excited smiles, expressions loosened in absolute awe and respect for the club that had achieved so much in so little time. Two years ago, they were nothing. Two years later, they were here, commanding the respect of volleyball enthusiasts and casual fans alike, all across the land.

“Wow! Champion team? So if we join the team, we’re part of that champion team?”

“That means we can be famous in Japan!”

“And we’ll train with other champion teams? That’s so cool!”

See, that was what he was afraid of, people joining in just for the sake of glory and fame. Sure, he was considered one of the best middle blockers in the prefecture, but Tsukishima didn’t do what he did for the sake of being recognised as the best. There were many reasons why he played volleyball, many reasons why he gave it his all every single game no matter official or not.

_When that moment comes for you, you’ll be hooked on volleyball._

_Put your arms out, stretch your fingers to the limit, and jump._

_This club is a family._

Volleyball had never been about himself alone. From the day Ushijima Wakatoshi’s spike had ricocheted off his arms with a deafening bang reverberating through the Sendai City Gymnasium, the game had never been about himself, and that hadn’t changed one bit.

So when these kids began to chatter about being a powerhouse school and playing nationals like it was so easy, so simple, there was an ugly bubble that formed in his throat. Desperately, Tsukishima kept his mouth shut, holding back the ugly sound that would surely fill the gym if he allowed himself to speak. The hands on his cards tightened, and his knuckles turned white while the edges of the cards dug into pale, roughened skin.

 

The outcome of their efforts had manifested a good two days after club fest, where Yachi walked into the gymnasium with a thick stack of paper, all wrinkled and crumpled to a certain extent. Their second years had stuck themselves on the court to practice their techniques, and most of the third years had decided to help them out, showing them the proper execution.

Tsukishima quietly asked Yamaguchi to take over from him for a bit, and the vice-captain immediately walked straight towards the blonde manager, her sparkling eyes of joy quite telling of how successful their recruitment attempt was.

“Overall, there are thirteen applications to the club!” She smiled at the much taller boy as he stopped in front of her, holding out the stack for him to take. Out of everyone who was satisfied with the number of people interested in them, Yachi had the most reason to be elated, for she had been one of the few who had worked the hardest in setting up their workshop-esque idea for the fest.

To her, it was very much an indication of how much better she was getting at her job, and how even she could contribute to the team as a non-player member.

Tsukishima quietly took the stack into his hands, and he flipped through every single application, reading off the names and the classes of the students that had so excitedly offered themselves to the club. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t happy about the club being able to get more members and stay on for another year, but there was that quiet voice whispering in the back of his mind, things that would never see the light of day.

_How many of them will leave before the Summer Interhigh?_

Without a single word, Tsukishima bowed slightly in thanks, and he took the next five minutes to try to silence his thoughts by scrutinizing the applications further.

\---

Since the first Spring High he had been to, Karasuno had gotten a large influx of practice match requests, from as close as the school in the next town, and as far as the schools from the neighbouring prefectures around Miyagi. He had seen many teams of all types, of varying amounts of offensive and defensive power, but the only team he had yet to play against was a college team.

Tohoku University, also known as Todai. A forty-five minute drive away from Karasuno, but one of Japan’s most well-known universities. One of the seven Imperial Universities, ranked as one of the top fifty universities across the globe; Tohokudai was the absolute definition of prestige and class, and yet they had set their sights on going up against a mere high-school level school like Karasuno.

No matter. College, high school or whatever level, Tsukishima was certain that they would be able to learn something from the opponent, for they were crows that adapted no matter where they were. And yet, there was something special about this match, something that had nagged away at him while he was onboard the bus they had always rented, zipping down the roads of Sendai and bringing them closer and closer to Tohokudai’s Kawauchi campus.

Was it because they were college students? Was it because they were going to visit the campus gym instead of the opponent team coming to their gym? He didn’t know, but he was for certain, sure that he was not scared. And neither were the rest of the team.

“I think I’m going to hurl.”

Or not.

Tsukishima felt the start of a headache as he turned back, narrowing his honey-brown eyes with such disdain that it was clear to anyone who looked at him that the vice-captain was _not happy._ Next to him, Yamaguchi snickered as he pressed his hand over his lips, trying not to anger Tsukishima further by laughing too hard.

It had been quite a while since something like this happened, after all.

“Hinata Shoyo. If you puke on this bus, so help me, I will find a dark, abandoned storeroom somewhere on campus, and lock you in there forever. Do you want to die? How old are you? You’ve been through so many matches and you’re _still nervous_?”

“Shut up, Tsukishima!” It took everything Hinata had to shout that and hold down the puke, which was hard when the bus was already rocking a little from the speedbump they had to go over. “I’m just nervous! They’re adults! They’re scary! Just let me be!”

The bus was less crowded than he was used to, since Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei had decided to only send the regulars and two reserves. The new batch of players stayed back with some of their second years, in order for them to use practice time properly to brush up on the techniques. Tons of them had joined without any idea of how to even play the game, so they had to rely on their juniors to guide them along while they were gone.

If only if it wasn’t dangerous for him to walk while the bus was on the move, because he would absolutely get up and throw Hinata off the bus if he got the chance. Luckily for everyone, the wing spiker had managed to hold it in, just until they got to the campus. He had correctly predicted that the moment the ace had gotten off the bus, no one would see him, at least until one of them tracked him down to a toilet hidden somewhere in the buildings.

 Tohokudai’s campus was gorgeous, to say the least. The buildings were huge, large blocks of modern grey and brown stretched out and organised in neat rows. There was a _lot_ of walking space too, with wide concrete pathways leading to everywhere and _anywhere_ at the same time. Karasuno High School was tiny as compared to this huge patch of land. Trees were everywhere, adding a splash of colour to the campus and painting concrete grey with leafy green and seasonal pastel pink.

Tsukishima really had to admit, this was a gorgeous place.

The air was different from high school too. The students that walked by them seemed a lot more mature, a lot more carefree than how his classmates and juniors were.

This wasn’t his first time on a college campus. He had visited Akiteru at his school many, many times before, but unlike Akiteru’s school, Tohokudai felt like a gathering for society’s most sophisticated young adults. It was a place for the cream of the crop, those destined to be great things and reform society as they knew it once they had left the safety of academic youth.

It was just because of that that he felt out of place, like a fish out of water. He had always known he had to enrol into a university after his final year at Karasuno, but this had intimidated him deeply, filling his heart with shaky hesitation.

“Woah, Tsukki! Do you see that?” Yamaguchi seemed to be very taken with the school, pointing at all the buildings and the signs that were strewn all over, pointing them to faculties and facilities that they wouldn’t have otherwise known about. The whole team was walking together as a group, sticking close together just in case one of them had wandered too far and gotten themselves lost. They had to wait for Hinata, of course. How could they stand a chance without their ace?

“That’s a library as big as our entire school!”

“Mm.”

Finally, after a good five minutes of walking from the carpark to the gymnasium they were supposed to meet the team captain and the players at, Karasuno had finally stopped in front of the large silver steel doors that separated campus and gym from each other.

“I expect all of you to be on your best behaviour,” Kageyama muttered while they stood in front of those doors, facing all of them with a pointed glare, gazing at every single one of them as he spoke. “If any of you fuck this up, I will _slaughter_ you.”

“Oi! No one’s gonna listen to you if you’re that mean!” cried Hinata while he placed his hands on his hips. Even until this very day, no one else could catch up with Kageyama and Hinata besides the both of them. There was no one who could tame the raven captain besides the ball of sunshine himself, not even Tsukishima who was supposed to be his assistant captain.

Somehow, his mind wandered to a time not long ago, with a certain captain that almost never listened to his vice-captain no matter what the younger one did.

“I guess it’s not because he’s stubborn,” the soft-spoken, black-haired vice-captain had said back then, his gorgeous almond-shaped eyes scanning over a document he held in his hand, “Bokuto-san’s just an idiot sometimes. Whatever you say will absolutely not register, because he doesn’t understand you.”

Straightforward, blunt, but even back then Akaashi-san had the softest of hearts for his captain.

But that just wasn’t Tsukishima. This captain of his made him irrationally angry at times, and he often had to hold himself back from strangling him.

Well, as expected of the King, right?

“Fine, fine. _Please_ behave, because if you don’t, I _will fucking slaughter you_.”

There was a strange tension that had overcome all of them, all of a sudden, and Yamaguchi could only bring himself to chuckle nervously beside Tsukishima, trying his hardest to diffuse the situation so that they didn’t get too affected.

“Well. At least he said please this time?”

 

As they stepped into the gym, the first thing Tsukishima noticed was how high the ceiling was, very similar to the Sendai City Gymnasium itself. There were seats at the sides, reaching all the way up to the third floor of the gym, and he could only wonder how often those seats filled up, and how frequently. The floor was a shiny wood, clearly polished and well-maintained, sparkling under the lights hanging so far up above them.

This was where a college-grade team practiced.

While the boys gathered around, they had managed to capture the attention of everyone on and off court, dressed in their jerseys that whose colours were so well-known at this point. This was the first practice match he had as vice-captain, so there was just that pressure to round up his kids and get them to greet their hosts.

At least, he and Kageyama tried to do so, until a voice from the crowd spoke up, powering over the rest of the chatter.

“Long time no see, guys.”

There was that voice. So familiar, so rich in its quality. There was only _one_ face he could match that voice with, and his heart had quietly prayed that it really was him because god knows how much he needed a familiar senior’s presence right now.

A loud gasp from Hinata, and his hopes had been confirmed.

“DAICHI-SAN!”

There he was, as charismatic and strong as Tsukishima remembered. Daichi had grown a little taller in the last few years, and bulked up even more, filling out his uniform in all the right places. But even with the physical changes, Daichi was as much of a leader as he was back then.

Just like how Karasuno was back then, Tohokudai seemed to respect their captain to the fullest, believing in him and trusting in him as the team’s total backrow defense. It wasn’t a secret that when he had left high school, Karasuno had faced a total dead end in trying to find someone to replace him, and until now there really wasn’t anyone that was quite as great as Sawamura Daichi once was. He was an asset, and Tsukishima was secretly irritated that their team had to face him as an opponent now.

“Daichi-san, I didn’t know you went to Tohoku,” Not forgetting Kageyama, the current captain had utmost respect for his predecessor, having looked up to him as the definition of leadership. None of them had ever known where their seniors had gone after graduation, only what they did. He _did_ know for a fact that despite all the training and practice that his third years had gone through, Sugawara and Daichi had gotten really good results, opening the pathway to their futures.

“Aha, I didn’t really tell you guys much, did I,” With such a lighthearted laugh, Daichi chuckled to himself, and it was hard for Tsukishima to infer whether or not withholding information from his previous high school team had been intentional or not. But fate had yet to finish showing its hand on them. Beside him, another smaller person donned in their university colours had stepped forward, his smile still as refreshing as it was back then, two years on.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about me too, guys.”

It seemed a little bit like a joke to him, a cruel joke that the universe had played on him. As if the cosmos had decided to fuck with him a bit for an April Fools joke, standing in front of him was _his_ predecessor, the silver-haired beauty that was Sugawara Koshi.

Instead of feeling glad, his stomach curled, and he had to force himself to not act on his sudden desire to bolt out of the gym and run straight home, jumping into his bed and never emerging from his covers ever again. The number two on his own jersey suddenly felt like it was burning into his stomach, and the evergrowing conclusion that he was not fit to wear the number sprouted again in his heart, emerging from where it had been buried so forcefully by Tsukishima weeks ago.

“SUGA-SAN!” This time, Yamaguchi had yelled, and the freckled middle blocker did not hesitate in anything as he launched himself towards his beloved senior, pulling him into a hug as the two reunited once again after so long. By now, the rest of Tohokudai had been forgotten for the moment, as the four regulars on Karasuno’s team crowded around their alumni players, grateful for the opportunity to reconnect and re-establish bonds.

“Oi, oi~ It’s really nice to see you guys again! So, Captain Kageyama, huh? And Vice-captain Tsukishima! What a pair!” Sugawara’s lips curled into such a beautifully wide grin, his eyes curling into half-moons at the force of his smile. Beside him, Dachi laughed as he closed the gap between himself and his former team, allowing himself to be pulled into the huge group hug as well.

As much as they were current opponents, it was clear how this high school team had a large place in both of their hearts. But it was just because of that that Tsukishima found it hard to relax around them. Were they going to be disappointed when they see how Karasuno played now? Would they scoff and discuss with each other how Tsukishima and Kageyama were unfit for the roles? Long had he known that he was inadequate for leadership, but that truth had only weighed heavier today, right in front of the person the tall middle blocker had not wanted to disappoint the most.

He couldn’t bring himself to smile, his heart feeling like there was something heavy stuck to it.

And, when Tsukishima pulled his head up from the hug he was pulled it, the universe dealt its final blow, giving him the hardest hit that stung so red.

Honey-brown eyes spot _him,_ unruly hair and the most slappable smirk in the entire world. It came as no surprise that Kuroo Tetsurou’s rage-inducing hair was the first thing that registered in his head.  Seeing him brought a whole new mix of emotions that he had never felt before at the same time—shame, fear, happiness, hesitation and annoyance. There was a lot to unpack, but the overwhelming intensity of his feelings had left him exhausted, _way before_ the match had even started.

But, as annoying as he was, there was something that had kept Kuroo away at arms-length. He would have thought that Kuroo would try to barge into the happy little gathering between the six former team mates, but the older man had simply stayed put, only smirking a little wider when their eyes met.

He didn’t know why, but a part of him wished that Kuroo had come to greet him, even while they were all wrapped up in each other’s arms.

 

”So Tsukki, vice-captain huh?”

It shocked him, since he was busy putting something away to the side right before their match. Up close, Kuroo’s hair had gotten longer, and what little boyish charm he had back in high school had long gone, replaced with a maturity that Tsukishima could only wish for. Yet, his aggravating smirk was still the same, and it sent weird tingles down his spine whenever the rooster-head’s eyes connected with his.

Strange.

“Yeah. I’m surprised you’re not captain, Kuroo-san. Finally realised that leadership’s not for you?”

“You wound me, Tsukki. I’ll have you know, first-year college students can’t be captain or club president or leadership holders in committees. But I’ll let Daichi have his moment to shine, until I come take over next year.”

It was just like they hadn’t left Shinzen High, like they hadn’t parted that summer evening where the orange glow painted everything and everyone, where the cicadas called around them just before the sky darkened. There was the bickering that came to them so effortlessly, so naturally, and Tsukishima found himself being pulled towards Kuroo Tetsurou’s cool magnetism.

Didn’t anyone else feel like this? Shit. This was why he didn’t like being around Kuroo.

“First year?” Tsukishima asked, finding it quite strange that his former mentor was not in the same year as his seniors. Next to the court, the blow of the whistle summoned them all, and the two middle blockers began to make their way across shiny, polished wood.

“I took a gap year before I came to Tohokudai,” He explained, “I’m a first year Chem student, and the _next captain of the team._ ”

There was that joking tone that Kuroo was well-known for using, that provocative edge that gave Kuroo the ‘cheeky-bastard reputation’ among the schools that were close to Nekoma.

“How will the ‘next captain’ of the team answer to his team when he loses against a high school blocker?” Tsukishima snarked back, unwilling to let Kuroo provoke him into submission. It seemed that even as they finally took their places on opposite sides of the net, there wasn’t letting up from _either_ side, and they would provoke each until the other side admitted defeat.

“Don’t be so sure about that, Tsukki. I thought you everything you know!”

“I took everything you know and made it better.”

“Then show me. Show me what you got, Tsukki.”

No longer was the college player smiling, and he looked absolutely serious. He wanted to see Tsukishima play, he wanted to see how far Tsukishima had grown. The intensity of his stare had shaken him to his very core, and it was like those light brown eyes bore deeply into his soul. The net between them acted like a barrier for Tsukishima, like staying behind it would protect his deepest feelings and secrets from being found out.

Now it was serious. There was still the subtle insecurity that he would disappoint Sugawara and Daichi, both of which were standing behind that very net as Tohokudai’s own regulars. That was something that had been pushed to the back of his head, waiting to be pulled out later in the comfort of his own room while he was alone.

Now, he was here to play for his team, to learn from college players and most importantly, prove himself to his former mentor how far he had come after their time together during summer two years ago.

The whistle blew once more, echoing over everyone’s head and reverberating through the gym’s expanse, and the ball came flying at them. Within the same rally, Sugawara sent the ball flying through the air, and the ball soared onward towards Kuroo.

_Straight._

He seemed so confident, and rightfully so. No doubt did Kuroo and his other seniors improved even further, enough for them to nab regular spots on the team. In the same period of time, though Karasuno had reached great heights of their own, clinching glory and prestige among the national volleyball circuit.

With that knowledge tucked so comfortably away in his heart, Tsukishima reached upward and stretched his fingers out toward him, jumping without fear of failure as he prepared for battle against the one he called _teacher._


	3. may

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't you want to evolve?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TOOK A WHILE TO GET UP!
> 
> So sorry for making everyone wait so long, I graduated this month, and then my motivation tanked. 
> 
> Many thanks to everyone for supporting this fic!

iii. may

 

_“Youth has no age.” — Pablo Picasso_

There was just something about losing that made you want to work harder.

It wasn’t anything that was within understanding, he could never hope to imagine in a thousand years that he would be able to explain the sensation of loss, the sinking in your stomach that made you wish so hard that you were… _more_. Enough.

And it was just that feeling that kept him right where he was, standing in the middle of the court at 7.30p.m. with the rest of the team, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath as his thighs screamed at him to stop moving. It was as if his body was a magnet, pulled down to the ground with no hope of ever jumping again.

There was just that _need_ to get better, to be someone that he wasn’t now, and no matter how many times he stretched his arms and fingers above his head, it just wasn’t enough for him to be satisfied.

That’s why he was here. That’s why they all were here.

“Tsukishima,” Yachi held out the plastic yellow bottle to him when he had finally taken a break for the first time in _hours_ , and the intense air that hovered around him had not gone ignored at all, “I know you’re serious and all, but take it slow.”

“Mm.”

He had been like this for a couple of days, clearly Not Okay to anyone who has a working brain and a good sense of social cues. Nobody really knew what had happened, he had just stormed into the gym the morning after their practice match, _way_ earlier than Kageyama and Hinata—and effectively scaring the both of them shitless when they walked into the confines of the building greeted by the sight of him spiking volleys with a ferocity that they had never seen before.

Hinata had been the most frightened, quickly moving behind his taller, _broodier_ counterpart and peeking over his shoulder like a little orange kitten hiding from something big and scary.

Which was kind of what Tsukishima was at that moment.

“Uh, g’morning?” The midget of a wing spiker squawked over Kageyama’s shoulder, small hands grabbing onto his friend’s biceps and pulling him back like a blanket, “What are you doing here.”

“What does it _look_ like I’m doing?” Tsukishima had paused then, already sweaty and soaked from practicing his spikes, or what he thought were spikes. Unbeknownst to him, from the duo’s point of view, he had been slamming his palm into the ball over and over again, like a violent meditation routine that birthed itself on Pinterest or something.

It was very clear to Kageyama and Hinata that Tsukishima was clearly angry. Which was an absolute rarity.

See, Tsukishima got _annoyed_ , he got _irritated,_ and he certainly got upset. But Tsukishima Kei, ‘uselessly-hot-blooded-people-annoy-me’ never got angry. No matter what stupid shit anyone in the club pulled. Not when Hinata broke into his house that one time trying to do some ‘recon’ for that surprise party they planned last year, not when Kageyama spiked that ball into his throat once after their lengthy ‘discussion’ (see: hostile threats being thrown at each other over the heads of Hinata, Yachi and Yamaguchi) over starting positions during practice matches. No, Tsukishima never got angry, and the worst case scenario was being on the receiving end his downright villainous taunts, with that cocky smirk that screamed ‘You-insignificant-speck-of-dirt’.

And it was exactly because of that, watching Tsukishima take out his frustrations by his lonesome on court at crack-ass o’ clock in the morning was so frightening.

“Kageyama,” Hinata muttered as he pulled Kageyama aside, face twisted with something between ‘the world is about to end’ and ‘call the police’. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t look at me, dumbass. I know as much as you do.”

“So much for being captain know-it-all, huh.” Hinata grumbled as he then pushed past the captain, furrowing his brows as he racked his brain for solutions to this tense situation, hoping that by lunch time, Tsukishima would have lightened up already.  

“You best shut up before I kill you, Hinata Shouyo.” The setter bit out, already heading straight for the ball basket after pulling off his shoes.

Of course Tsukishima didn’t lighten up. The tall blonde middle blocker had gone on to very openly frown at everyone and everything as the week went on, like he had something sour stuck in his mouth all day long. It had gotten to the point where the juniors were beginning to be quite affected by their vice-captain’s bitter aura, staying far, far away from him if they had the opportunity to.

Normally, Yamaguchi didn’t ask much about Tsukishima’s wellbeing because of how easy it was to just gauge on his own, as a learned habit from being around him since they were nine-year-olds, little kids that walked around with limbs too long in some places. He had seen him go from a bright little boy to a brooding young man, but nonetheless, Tsukki was still Tsukki.

And Tsukki was clearly not happy.

“Tsukki, everything okay?” He approached him when the sun had long set beyond the beautiful mountainous horizon, where the light from their gym filtered out of the barred windows, creating little golden rectangles on the earth outside. “You seem… tense?”

“I’m fine.” The reply was curt, and Tsukishima was as stiff as a board. The tall blonde middle blocker pushed his face into the rough fibrous towel, as if trying to hide his expression from Yamaguchi himself.

“Are you sure? You’re all quiet and all,” Yamaguchi murmured, not allowing his friend to weasel his way out of this. There had been many times where he had given Tsukishima the space he needed, the time he required to bounce back without a problem. It seemed, however, that no matter how long he gave him in _this_ situation, it was bound to get worse and worse. “Did something happen? You’ve been pretty down since our practice match.”

The silence that ensued was all the answers he needed.

“… Did something happen during the practice match?”

“No. Nothing happened.”

There was that tension in the air again, the fragile feeling that something would break should Yamaguchi choose to probe further into the caverns of Tsukishima’s mind. It was never easy breaking down his friend, with _so many walls_ put up (and rightfully so) that were so difficult to dismantle, long after he had reconciled with Akiteru after training camp during their first year.

“Tsu—”

“Oi, Tsukishima! Can you come block? I got this _sweet_ new spike I wanna test!” Right before Yamaguchi could even say something to his friend, trying to get him to open up and finally talk out his feelings, Hinata had shouted from across the gym, his arms waving and flailing in the air to grab his friend’s attention.

He hadn’t said a single word, but Tsukishima already put his glasses back on, handing the towel back to Yachi on his way to where he was called, back fully turned to Yamaguchi.

\---

As a powerhouse, there was always the expectation of winning and dominating rallies, and everyone in the national volleyball circuit would know exactly who you are—modelling themselves after your example in hopes to become the next champions standing on the podium.

Of course, being a regular on a powerhouse team was hard. There was just that pressure bearing down on your shoulders, forcing you to push yourself to the very limit of your ability just for the privilege to raise your head high and boldly proclaim to the world that ‘Yes, I am this team’s regular’.

Being the vice-captain? The pressure was unbearable.

Only net separated the two of them, but as Tsukishima watched the ball rocket up from the opponent libero’s arms, he had realised that the skill that set them apart was so, so much more.

“Left!”

“I’m open!”

It was laughable really, to have ever considered that _they_ would have even a single chance at even taking a set from a college team, one that was clearly kilometres ahead of them in terms of technical skill and experience. As the ball plummeted through the air straight into Sugawara’s waiting palms stretched out above him, Tsukishima lamented at how he wasn’t able to read where his senior would have aimed, the silver-haired setter having longed mastered the perfect form.

“Tatsuya!” Sugawara yelled as he pushed the ball up again, launching the sphere over his teammates heads. There had always been something so elegant about the way his senpai carried himself, even as a high schooler. But here, Tsukishima could see how much his seniors had grown, charisma shooting through the roof and bodies fully grown out of the awkward stage of puberty.

In that split second, the quick moment that he had zoned out to admire the guys across the net, he felt something dark and ugly begin to swell up in his heart, and it took everything in him to force that ugly creature down to just _fucking focus_ on the match.

 _If I could make a comparison,_ Coach Ukai had said once, _a setter is like a conductor. The same piece will sound different if the conductor’s changed._

The way the opponent ran like water, players fluidly swirling on the court around Sugawara was sort of like a dance routine—the motions were so perfectly in-sync that it seemed virtually impossible that they made a mistake or a hiccup while in play.

And it showed, the way Karasuno’s mobbing tactic held up against Tohokudai.

Set 2. 17-24. They were floundering, and the six-point gap was proof that Karasuno still had ways to go—a limitation on their strength that they had so painstakingly cultivated for so long. They had dropped a set already, and (for a school that had gotten used to winning so often) the members were frazzled.

If only Tsukishima could have laughed at the way Kageyama looked, like a confused duck taking a particularly hard exam. Hinata wasn’t any better, screaming over and over to ‘ _send the ball to me!’_ and getting shocked when the blockers on the other side of the net effectively stopped his attacks in succession.

The spiker slapped down the ball, sending it right towards the front, and Karasuno’s libero—a small, quiet second-year, rushed forward with arms stretched out. The sound of ball slapping against skin was loud, and the blue-and-yellow sphere was sent rocketing back over to Sugawara’s side.

“Chance ball!”

“Suga-chan, I’m here!”

Of course it had to be him. _Of course it had to be Kuroo fucking Tetsurou._

Cockheaded, sly-eyed, shit-eating, up-to-no-good being Kuroo Tetsurou. There was a lot to be said about his former teacher’s blocks. It was the exact technique that Tsukishima himself had adapted and moulded into his own, and that technique was what had gotten them into the national spotlight. What he had learned from their final battle against each other in Tsukishima’s first year, and their current match against each other, was that his senior was _good_ at volleyball.

And, like he was hyperaware of that exact fact, Kuroo rushed forward with his arms tossed back, readying himself into the perfect jump.

“Jump as high as you can,” Tsukishima muttered to Yamaguchi next to him, who had taken his place next to his best friend, hands raised and already locked in position. “Ready? Go!”

On cue, the middle blockers jumped, and Tsukishima felt the air swish against his cold, sweat-covered back.

His legs were tired. He was drenched, skin cold and limbs hot with adrenaline. And yet, there was nothing holding him back from launching himself up as far as he could reach, nothing stopping him from breaking the ball’s velocity and halting its course.

There wasn’t much he could do on court. Since the very day he had joined Karasuno’s ranks, he had known all along that there really wasn’t anything he could do, neither could he match up to the pure skill and talent that both Kageyama and Hinata had.

But here he was, a lack of talent unable to bolt him to the ground, and he was face to face with that smug cat, fully focused on the ball in front of him and nothing else. There just wasn’t any time for such frivolous thinking, and there wasn’t any battle they could afford to lose, no matter what.

“Ohoho, you’ve grown Tsukki!” Kuroo rushed forward, and with his knees bending, he springs himself up into the air, the ball right in front of him, “But so did I!”

On cue, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi jump, shoulders pressed together in a bid to close up any gap that Kuroo could potentially squeeze his shot through. Even then, however, no matter how far their long limbs reached, the opposing middle blocker had other plans to thwart the block by all means necessary.

A snap of the wrist followed by the smack of skin against leather. Before Tsukishima could even register it, the ball had already knocked his and Yamaguchi’s arms back slightly, and the ball had dropped between long bodies and the net, a resounding thump calling for the match’s end long before the whistle had.

_Phweet, Phweeeeeeeet._

And it was over.

The air filled with cheers from their opponent. There was just something about losing that made you feel like you had to work harder, that you weren’t enough to overcome a wall that was so easily conquered in theory. It was the dread that filled the air on Karasuno’s side of the court, silence as flashbacks of regret filled everyone’s minds, one by one.

“Line up,” Kageyama said, raising his voice over the cheering, his own face twisted with suppressed rage and regret for everything he had done, and could have done, “We’ll debrief back at school.”

No reassurance, no nothing. That signature slit-throat method that Kageyama adopted was tough, but effective. But even Tsukishima knew for a fact that a softer, gentler heart would have complimented Kageyama’s captaincy perfectly. Someone who was able to nurture the team and give encouragement where needed.

Naturally, the role would have gone to the vice-captain. There were many instances of vice-captains that were the perfect embodiment of the support-type leader. Akaashi-san, Sugawara-san, Nekoma’s Kai, Aoba Johsai’s Iwaizumi, and so on. But him? Tsukishima could barely show affection to his best friend, or even to his brother. How could he show the care that Karasuno needed in times like this?

As he stood in front of Sugawara himself as both teams lined up, he watched as his senior held out his hand, the long and delicate-looking palm stretched out for a handshake. His gaze followed up Suga’s arm, and soon settled on that signature smile, ever so refreshing and light in its nature.

How could he ever compare to the legacy that Sugawara himself had left behind?

“Tsukishima! That was a great game,” The setter lightly grabbed hold of his hand, pulling him into a handshake while they conversed. “You improved!”

“Thanks.”

That was the only thing he could bring himself to say. Yeah, sure, he could block. Sure, he stuffed a bunch of spikes from the other side, but it wasn’t enough. How could he be someone who commanded respect from his team so effortlessly? How could he be a proper support (albeit reluctantly) to the captain who had the emotional intelligence of a rock?

A team had to be led by someone, if not chaos would run amok. That was the philosophy he had run on for the last two years under two different types of captain dynamics, and yet, putting it into practice was difficult.

“Oi, oi, Tsukki!” That voice again. Thick as honey, but ever so annoying when it wanted to be. As the two teams began to part ways, Kuroo had called him back from the net, beckoning him over with that signature smirk of his.

Even Kuroo himself had grown. His hair had gotten slightly longer, his stupid off-center fringe actually dipping down to his cheek now, and it seemed that his face had lost a little bit of that boyish charm for a more mature air around it; but he was not mistaken. Kuroo was still Kuroo, even with a slightly more toned body and a couple more centimetres added to his height.

“Going without saying hi to your _favourite_ senpai? I’m so hurt!” The older man mock-whined, pressing a hand over his heart in a grand dramatic show as he threw his head back, despair exaggerated on his face.

“I already said hi to Sugawara-san and Daichi-san.”

“Oof. Ever the Ice Prince, huh? Being nice once in a while won’t kill you, y’know?” Kuroo dropped his hand down, choosing to rest it on his hip instead as he watched Tsukishima, an expression that the younger of the two never really learned to read. It was quite curious, the way he seemed to get a bit serious whenever the both of them met, the mood changing surprisingly quick even after a long showdown of wits.

Tsukishima couldn’t lie, really. How intense Kuroo’s gaze could really get was unnerving at times, and seeing it after a whole year and a half apart from him sent quite a thrill down his spine, like a fire that he couldn’t really put out spreading through his body.

Damn that stupid cat.

“What do you want, Kuroo-san?” Tsukishima deadpanned, already in a bit of a bad mood from the previous match, and yet, this encounter with him muted those worries down ever so slightly, his focus placed entirely on the man in front of him.

“Why do you always think that I have some secret agenda hidden up my sleeve?” He asked, smirking in a show that he really wasn’t all that hurt, just joking around with the kid that he had mentored himself. “I just wanted to ask if I could have your number? It’ll be cool to hang out with you, and plus, Bokuto and Akaashi come to Miyagi every now and then during term breaks! Won’t it be cool, the whole gang gathered again?”

“I wasn’t ever a part of your gang,” Tsukishima muttered, lacking the usual bite his words had, “Don’t you think Akaashi-san and Bokuto-san would have forgotten me already? It wasn’t as if we were ever that close.”

“Nonsense, Tsukki. You’re incredibly important to us,” The older of the two said, an achingly tender flavour to his voice that he had never heard before, and the warmth that welled up in his chest was truly, truly refreshing. “They ask about you a bunch, you know! I’ve just never been able to answer them because, y’know. I haven’t had the chance to catch up with you properly.”

 _You too_ , Tsukishima ended up thinking to himself, _you’re important to me too._

And they were. The three people that had such a huge impact in his life, that started the ball rolling and tutored him despite his initial hesitation in, well, _everything._

 _How’s volleyball been for you lately, Tsukki?_ He had been asked once, on a stage much, much bigger than the one they were currently standing on.

 _Thanks to you, every once in a blue moon, it’s been fun._ He remembered his reply, and till this very day, it was as true as the very moment he had said it.

“So, can I have your number?” Kuroo reached out, holding a little crumpled piece of paper and a small pencil, sharpened to a mere nib that could barely be held. There were many thoughts going through his head then, ever the overthinker that Tsukishima was, but like clockwork, his hand moved against his will.

“Don’t text me unless it’s important,” He murmured, pinching the pencil between his thumb and index finger, scratching down the numbers he had long memorised onto the rough surface of that little bit of paper.

“Everything I say is important.” Tsukishima couldn’t really see Kuroo with the way he was looking down while trying to write on the paper curled against the curves of his hand, but he could hear the way his voice lit up that laughing melody, in the way he sounded when he was trying to piss him off.

“You tried to quote a meme when you were teaching me how to block back then.”

“I’ll have you know that memes are extremely important. You won’t regret it, I’m a meme connoisseur!” Before Tsukishima could regret and toss the paper away, the older middle blocker reached out and grabbed it from the blonde’s pale hand, their hands brushing against each other and sharing warmth for that split second.

It was a warm moment, and that mere interaction had brought them back to that night in Saitama, walking alone at night on their way to the Shinzen cafeteria. The night was warm, just like how he felt, and they had been so close to each other that with every step, he could feel Kuroo’s pinky brush against him—sending little electrical tingles up his arm.

He didn’t know what that feeling was. At that point, he had just met him recently, and it was only after a couple of months that he finally begun to interact with Nekoma’s captain, against his will.

Tsukishima couldn’t remember a single word exchanged during that walk to the cafeteria, the both of them trailing behind Akaashi and Bokuto as the single-celled captain shouted about something mindless again, but he could remember the way Kuroo seemed so soft under the darkness of the night, the only light beaming from a lamp post that was a little off from where they were.

His smile, without the intention to piss off anyone, was quite nice, and Tsukishima recalled thinking about it for a couple of weeks after that.

But that had been long ago, and after Spring High, he was sure that Kuroo had forgotten him completely. There really wasn’t anything about Tsukishima to remember anyway, nothing of essence that would get the middle blocker, much less his little band of Tokyo boys trailing behind him, to even keep the youngest man in their thoughts long after they had parted ways.

So it was very, very surprising when he spotted Kuroo here, in Miyagi. Tokyo had so many universities that he could have gone to, and the fact that the cat bastard had actually ignored all of that just to come to Miyagi was quite baffling to him.

Even more surprising was that Kuroo actually _acknowledged_ him, and he actually remembered him even after all that time apart. To be told by him that Akaashi and Bokuto still asked about him till this day was the icing on the cake, and it was here that he did realise that everything he had assumed about his Tokyo-based seniors was wrong.

“Alright, I won’t keep you here any longer. Reply my texts, okay Tsukki?” Kuroo smiled as he pocketed the note and pencil, ensuring it stayed safely in his pocket, “Let’s hang out soon! You can make time for little ol’ me, right?”

“Don’t count your luck.” Tsukishima turned away, already making his way after his team who was already beginning to cool down, towels all draped over their heads and shoulders while they quietly packed up.

Turning back to see such a dreary sight was really like being dragged back down to reality. The way his teammates held such sad, weary expressions filled with regret and consideration, it reminded him very much of his inability as vice-captain.

Suddenly, that disgusting, black feeling began to grow in his heart again, and he felt his stomach churn.

“Oho? Vice-captain Tsukki too busy to make plans for an old friend? Being a captain means you gotta balance your life, you know?” Behind him, Kuroo called out, leaning on the net in such a nonchalant way that it was clearly impossible that he had any malicious intent when speaking, but his words bit through his chest all the same.

The blonde stopped in his tracks for just a moment, and he turned his head back with a smile, curving at the ends as far as he could make them go while his eyes stared at Kuroo, filled with the turbulent emotion he felt running through his heart.

“Then I guess I’m not a good vice-captain after all.” He replied, voice strained with _something_ that he himself couldn’t identify. Before the older man on the other side of the net could react, he had already left, back fully turned towards him.

\---

When the _sakura_ blossoms no longer littered the ground and the plains of Miyagi were filled with a lush, rich green, Karasuno prepares for the Summer Interhigh with a long training camp that usually ended with a practice match.

This year was no different, and days blended into nights as the team switched between drills, practice matches and runs outside school grounds in perfect weather that was neither too hot nor too cold.

Despite the reason for the training camp, the single common goal that they all had for attending these few days out of their precious Golden Week holiday and away from home, it was always an enjoyable time for everybody. There wasn’t any pressure, the combined want to _do better_ was an encouragement to everyone.

But what happens when the desire to ‘do better’ becomes an obsession?

Never in his life had he ever been the type of person to ask for help, even in his youth when he was a lot more outgoing than anything. It had always been a rinse-and-repeat type of situation: get into a problem, solve the problem. It wasn’t very often that he involved his emotions, or so he liked to think.

And then there were days like these, where he found it hard to turn to anyone, his head deeply entrenched in toxic thoughts about how _he wasn’t good enough_ or how _there wasn’t anything he could do about it._

If by now he still hoped that he was able to keep this momentary rut under wraps, he could only say that he was as stupid as Kageyama or something. It was obvious to him that some, if not all of the Karasuno members had long noticed that Tsukishima was not alright, from the pitying looks of his juniors and even the coach, with Yachi and Yamaguchi consistently whispering to each other while glancing at him between practice matches and drills.

Truth be told, for the last few days, his head had been fogged up, and for what? Whatever was running through his head was rearing its ugly head in his physical actions, showing in that little hesitation before he jumped for blocks, showing in that momentary thoughtful pause when his juniors had approached Kageyama and Hinata for spiking tips.

Whatever Tsukishima was hiding inside had soon become quiet unbearable, and on the final day of their training camp, it was quite certain that he was unable to perform in this state.

As per tradition, the Nekoma team showed up on their doorstep, a jumble of boys being led into the Sendai City Gym by Inuoka, who had already been in Miyagi three times now for their annual showdown with their crow counterparts out in the country. Even after becoming captain, the puppy-like boy was still ever so smiley and curious, and still boisterous as he could ever be.

“Oi, Hinata!” Inuoka cried out, moments after leading his team in and deserting them immediately in favour of rushing towards his small friend, “You cut your hair!”

“Yeah! Yeah! Ah, I saw the article you sent me and I’ve been trying out the workouts, I think my calves are stronger now! What do you think?” In earnest response to his much taller friend, Hinata stuck out his leg in a pseudo-lunge, trying to show off the newly gained muscle, or what was assumed to be muscle. After three years of jumping about on court like an irritating fly, one would probably already have muscles at the end of that period.

But, aside from being a volleyball nut, Lev had once mentioned to Hinata that ‘the way to get better at volleyball is to get muscular!’, and now the tiny boy monitored his bodily growth even _more_ than he had back in his first year.

“WOAH, amazing! It really does work!”

The most beautiful thing about bonds was how strong they could be, even without constantly seeing the other for a long time. With how far both teams were, a good 305 kilometres away, meeting them was close to impossible during certain times of the year where both teams had their other life to attend to—the one full of tests and academics and girlfriends or boyfriends and whatever.

That’s why when Lev approached him, he couldn’t help but feel just a little repulsed out of habit, but the familiarity of his blocker friend (if Tsukishima could even consider him a friend) was comforting.

“Tsukki,” Lev ran up to him, his arms flailing through the air in his excitement as he rushed to say hi to Tsukishima, “I’m gonna stuff _all_ your spikes today! For I am the _ace._ ”

“I know you’re the ace. No need to try to disguise your need to show off by talking to me.”

“So mean!”

They were on schedule. After quickly saying hi and catching up with everybody, they had to jump straight into the match in hopes that they could squeeze in as many sets as they could before the kitties had to run to catch the next Shinkansen bound for Tokyo before it got too late.

But of course, not everything went according to Tsukishima’s thought-out and detailed internal plan, and he surely did not account for hiccups from none other than _himself_.

In the middle of their third set, Tsukishima had begun to break down. It was subtle, since he really wasn’t all that fond of theatrics and all that dramatic shit of any kind. However, it was still there, and he hadn’t realised how bad his condition was until it was too late.

It happened during Nekoma’s serve, while he was in the front row posed to block. There were many things that were running through his head at this point really, but the biggest pain that weighed on his mind was how those big bold numbers screamed about his incompetence, taunting them from the side of the court.

Set 3, 17-20 in Nekoma’s favour.

Truthfully, he wouldn’t have been this stressed out had this been any other rally, but the reason why Nekoma reached the 20s first was because of him. In his previous attempt to block a spike from Inuoka, he had stretched out too far out and his hands went _above_ the setter, causing the ball to ricochet off his hands even before Inuoka himself had a chance to spike.

It had been a foul from his own hands, and that fact alone had pulled weighed on his heart even in this new rally.

There were so many times he had failed to stuff a spike that should have been _so easy_ to do so, many times where he had failed to spike himself and sent the ball straight to the red-and-white libero or even out of the line. In this match, the pressure to pull himself out of his rut had gotten bigger and bigger, to the point that there was so much fumbling on his end that he himself had not expected.

A resounding smack of the ball from the other end, and here Tsukishima braced himself, ready to spring into action when needed. There was time and place for him to get hung up over his mistakes, but if there was one thing Tsukishima was good at was that he was a veteran at pretending everything was alright, even if just momentarily.

The ball soared through the air, running straight into their libero, and then back over the net again. In front of him, as the ball was returned to the setter, he could read it. The way Lev rushed towards the net with his emerald eyes kept on the ball, like a cat homing in on a red laser spot. He had to stop this, turn the set around, and give his team the chance the victory it deserved.

He waited patiently, waiting for the exact moment where Lev launched himself up in the air, and he saw it—the perfect timing to complete the block. Without hesitation, and with the barrage of conscience thoughts in his head that screamed at him to _block! Block, damn it! You gotta get this right!,_ the adrenaline in his body rushed through his spine and mixed with the desperation to live up to Karasuno’s name.

In the last three years, Lev had grown—astoundingly too. No longer was he the awkward 16-year-old that was constantly subjected to Kuroo and Yaku’s wrath, and no longer did he act without reasoning on court like he used to do back in the days that he had started out as a regular on the team.

Lev had grown into the title of ace, and within the last three years, he had become someone so terrifyingly formidable, a cornerstone to Nekoma’s victory that had assisted the team to greater heights. As a matter of fact, even with Kuroo and Yaku out of the picture, Nekoma had met Karasuno in Semi-finals, and the encouragement that both teams constantly sent each other ensured that growth would happen on both ends.

That’s where he had met his limit.

In a split second, the ball was behind Tsukishima, and yet he had not felt the ball graze against his arms like it normally did. There was one fatal mistake that Tsukishima had made during this rally, and of all things he could have done, it was such a _rookie_ mistake. It shouldn’t have been done.

_Phweet._

Set 3, 17-21 in Nekoma’s favour.

“Woah, a banzai block! I haven’t seen that in a long time!” Lev crowed out, his face contorted and twisted with amusement that he looked like he had wanted to laugh in Tsukishima’s face, but there was just something so off about Karasuno’s key middle blocker that even Lev himself had immediately sensed it, knowing that it wasn’t safe nor was it right for him to continue down that line of teasing.

Even the blockhead had sensed it.

His head was dropped, expression hidden from either side. It was so hard, so hard to control his face in times like this, and it took him everything to not begin to snarl in frustration at the single point that was scored by spiking _between his fucking arms._

There was so much he could have done, should have done. To make such a rookie mistake? To do something so elementary right in front of the team he was supposed to set an example for? Unforgiveable. Absolutely inexcusable.

His fists hung by his sides, clenched and white-knuckled, and the thoughts rushed through his head and weighed down his heart that it began to _physically hurt._ There was nothing that could have made this moment worse, full of humiliation from his own pathetic incompetence.

And yet, he was wrong.

 _Phweeeeet._ A placard held high, the blacked and bolded number ‘11’ printed on the glossy white surface of the card. It was a message sent to him by Coach Ukai, that he wasn’t _needed_ , he wasn’t _useful_ on court, and he should be swapped out.

And that was what hurt the most.

“Tsukishima,” Coach Ukai spoke firmly as Tsukishima took his place on the bench, right next to him, “Why not you take a break for today? You’ve done well.”

“Okay. Thanks, coach.”

His head was hidden under the towel, and his body was slackened. There was so much that he could have done, _should have done_ , but none of it mattered now. Here he was, a regular, the vice-captain, forcibly pulled out of the game and benched, replaced by a middle blocker he had been coaching for a couple of months now.

Later on, he would deny fervently that this rough patch never happened, his pale cheeks would go red at the very mention of his embarrassing mental block that had caused so much pain and trouble for him in the span of a single week, but for now? Tsukishima hurt. He could only force himself not to show it on his face in order to save what little dignity he had left, and it was so simple to keep up with faces that he was that calm, cool and collected person—the Logic of Karasuno.

Under the towel, though? The hot tears bit him, stung him in the eyes, and it soaked the rough, fibrous fabric that hid his face from the world.

\---

Instead of dismissing everyone back at school, the training camp usually ended where the final practice match was, and everyone was allowed to head back home on their own from the Sendai City Gym.

He didn’t know what made him do it, neither did he know if this was a conscious decision that his brain had suddenly churned out, but he decided to take the long way home instead of the usual bus that popped by the closer station, opting to walk for a little bit before boarding another bus a little out of the way.

It was nice, the cooling night air that caressed his skin like an embrace. Tsukishima had always done well in the silence, but tonight, the thoughts were just a little louder, a bit untameable, and he could only reflect on all the shortcomings that had caused all the trouble he had faced in the last two months.

There wasn’t much he could do about it.

He was already setting a game plan as to what he would do the next time he saw Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei: formally renounce his title and offer a detailed schedule as to how he would do a handover to the next vice-captain. Who it would be, he didn’t know, but he was very sure that either Yamaguchi or Hinata would do a much better job than him.

Hinata, who already had the makings of a leader with that annoying never-say-die attitude. Yamaguchi, who had a heart of gold, and would be able to pick up the team where they faltered and support Kageyama properly without interjecting their duties with useless emotion. Either would would have been a better choice for vice-captaincy, and his thoughts had ultimately boiled down to one question: _Why was I chosen?_

In the midst of him sorting out his thoughts and cataloguing them into different piles, there had been someone who had begun to follow him, body shadowing his as the two walked side by side on the cement sidewalks hidden by trees, neon lights of the city bright in the dark.

And yet, Tsukki hadn’t noticed, until the mysterious person cleared his throat.

“Y’know, I’ve been walking next to you for five minutes. Penny for your thoughts, Tsukki?” There it was again, thick like honey and deep like a trench. While it was clear that Tsukishima had just finished practice, since he was in his black tracksuit, it was a little less straightforward as to where the heck Kuroo Tetsurou had come from, since he was simply in a red-and-black plaid shirt and jeans.

“What—shit. You fucking scared me.” Tsukishima jolted out his thoughts the moment Kuroo had made himself known, and he stopped in his tracks to calm his beating heart, beating hard from the scare that he had just experienced. “Are you following me? Creep.”

“Now now, this isn’t the way to treat a friend! I just saw you walking, all distant and dazed and shit, and I thought I would accompany you to make sure that you don’t bump into a pole or something!” Kuroo laughed, grinning so mischievously that it was absolutely hard to even be mad at him.

Damn cat and his charming smile.

But even that, Tsukishima couldn’t really find it in him to respond as he normally would. Today, he was silent, and the growing need to go home and bury himself in his blankets made him a little bit impatient.

“Is there something you needed?” He ended up saying, his head turned away and his hand pulling his bag over his chest, subtly acting as a barrier between the both of them. In front of him, Kuroo’s grin began to drop, the older man realising that there was something wrong.

“Hey, are you alright? You seem a little sad.”

Sad didn’t even _begin_ to describe what he had been going through the last couple of days. There was the despair, the frustration, the loneliness he felt from _not being good enough for anything_. But yeah, sad was a pretty solid start.

Not that he wanted Kuroo to know.

“I’m fine, Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima said after a short pause, turning back with a smile in hopes that he would convince the elder that there was nothing wrong and that he should leave him alone, “It’s nothing you should be concerned about.”

But this was the master of provocation, and this self-titled master had the sharpest observational skills to rival Oikawa Tooru’s himself, even if he didn’t show off as much as the setter had back in the day.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know. I can tell you’re upset, especially after that thing you pulled with me last week.”

Whatever did he mean? Tsukishima couldn’t really quite remember what Kuroo was referring to, especially since their last interaction went pretty smoothly in his standards. He had even given him his number, so exactly what ‘shit’ did he pull?

But he didn’t want to entertain him. He was probably talking out of his ass, and he didn’t want to deal with even more bullshit at this moment in time.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, it’s a long story, and it’s petty anyway. Nothing you need to know about.” That was it. The final sentence he needed to say to shut him off. After this, he could go off his merry way and sulk over his pathetic situation, and then prepare himself for the new school week, where he would resign as vice-captain first thing during practice.

That was his plan, but this was Kuroo Tetsurou he was talking about, and the stupid bastard _never_ made anything easy for him.

“I’ve got all the time in the world.”

He looked serious, like those weird pockets of time that kept happening between them both, where the air around them seemed to calm to a still and it was only the both of them existing in a silent bubble.

There wasn’t any reason for Tsukishima to respond to that, really. He had all the right to walk off and ignore him, and he knew damn well that the elder would respect that space should he choose to shut him down completely.

Even then, he opened his mouth, for a reason that was completely unknown to himself.

“I don’t think I’m doing a good job, I guess,” His body slackened, and the grip on his back dropped as he looked down and to the side, trying to avoid that weirdly magnetic gaze of his, “I keep fucking up, and that’s not what Sugawara-san or Tanaka-san did while they were vice-captains.”

He had expected Kuroo to just laugh at him, to shut his feelings down and brush them off for some miniature problem that shouldn’t even exist. To his surprise, however, the man with the Cheshire cat-like face began to hum in thought.

“And you say this because?”

“W-well, I don’t really encourage my juniors like how Sugawara-san did. I don’t really motivate and cheer them on like Tanaka-san too,” It seemed really easy to just say everything to Kuroo, but there was just that inkling of pride that kept him from baring his entire soul onto his senior that he barely knew. Yet, he couldn’t help but talk about his problems, like a dam that had finally opened after so long, “I make rookie mistakes too. I’m just not a good example as a vice-captain.”

“All this time, you’ve been trying to mould your leadership into someone else’s version,” Kuroo interjected after was sure Tsukishima said everything he intended to, and the older man beckoned him to the side of the walkway, bringing them both under a large tree so that they had the privacy to speak without blocking the path, “But have you ever realised that you have your own style to do things?”

“Style?” Tsukishima murmurs in thought as he followed his senior to the side, “What do you mean by that?”

With a slight smile, Kuroo crossed his arms, gently tilting his head to the side as he began to explain and elaborate his point to Tsukishima, who he knew was actually pretty eager to listen. That was one of Tsukki’s charms, really, that he was so transparent even when he didn’t want to be, with those expressive eyes that told stories of what went on inside of that head.

“What I’m trying to say is, forget all that support-class crap you’re spewing, really. Sure, captains seem to be leaders by nature, but not every captain, or vice-captain for that matter, is the same,”

“See, Sawamura-kun is a more reliable type, right? But someone like Bokuto can’t be reliable for shit no matter how hard he tries!”

Thinking about the way the ex-Fukurodani captain acted made Tsukishima snort, just a little bit, and instantly he began to feel better.

“Even so, the team members look up to the captains and vice-captains, you know. It’s just, you guys aren’t there to baby your players. Everyone leads in a different way, and it just so happens that you’re not that nurturing type. I assume the captain’s not someone like that either?”

“Kageyama has the emotional intelligence of a hot potato,” Tsukishima huffed, already rolling his eyes at how dense the captain was. One would think three years would have changed that, but some people were just allergic to change it seemed. “Neither of us talk much to our players.”

“Ah, but you see, communication doesn’t have to be vocal.”

Confusing. So, so confusing.

His confusion seemed to be written all over his face too, for Kuroo had begun to laugh at him, chortling over how lost his junior looked.

“What I mean is, you don’t necessarily need to get your message across with _words_. I’m sure your members respect you, if the way they act around you is anything to go by.”

“The way they act around me?”

It wasn’t easy to see how the juniors acted around him, really, because he just never thought about it. His relationship with his juniors was simple, just coach them, answer their questions and debrief them. It was already pretty rare that he spoke to them outside of court or even within practice hours itself, but to think about how his juniors acted around him was undiscovered territory, really.

So what exactly did he mean?

“They listen to you, you know,” Kuroo said, ever so patient with the way Tsukishima internalised answers and reasoning, “Every time you say something they stop and listen, and that’s pretty rare considering that you’ve only been vice-captain for what, two months?”

“About three.”

“Yeah, three. Thing is, respect is not so easily gained. There are thousands of captains and vice-captains out there who can’t lead for shit, and their players just don’t want to deal with an incompetent leader. But you, you already _have_ what these leaders don’t have, and that’s respect.”

It did make sense, looking back at how Tsukishima didn’t ever need to raise his voice or anything, despite how rambunctious his mob of crows could be. Clearing the throat one time was enough for him to gain the attention of everyone on the team, even from his peers. But was that really enough?

“Respect is one thing, but what’s respect worth if you can’t live up to it? I made a really big blunder today, and I’m pretty sure that’s not what a leader should do.”

Even though this sounded so logical to him, it must have sounded like nonsense to Kuroo if the older man was laughing _this_ hard, his tall frame bent over in half as he shook with laughter. It annoyed Tsukishima very much, and it did take about five minutes for him to finally get him to just calm the fuck down.

“Aha, sorry, you’re just _hilarious_ ,” He snorted, wiping a tear away from under his eye. “Leaders make mistakes _all the time_ , Tsukki. We’re not some superhuman robot that was built to be perfect! Hell, even the pro-players goof up every now and then.”

“Really?”

“When I was captain, I once let a ball get spiked _between my arms_ , Tsukki. Me!”

And that confession really just did the trick, letting all the worries he had in his mind melt away. Still, he knew that there was a lot for him to work on, and he still wasn’t very sure about himself. Thoughts of resignation still lingered in his mind, and in the silence, he was able to go over every thing that had been covered tonight, every answer that Kuroo so nicely provided him.

But of course, there was still that quiet voice in his head that told him he wasn’t enough.

“If anything, Tsukki,” Like he had the ability to read his mind, Kuroo had quickly spoken up, halting all the negative thoughts that could have undone everything he had convinced his junior of tonight, on this busy street in Sendai City, “I think you’re a great captain. You got the potential to grow, and you’ll definitely be able to lead Karasuno to glory again. Besides,”

“I’d much rather have _you_ as my captain than any random harvest from this year’s batch.”

Maybe he wasn’t enough, maybe he still had ways to grow, but to hear Kuroo’s confidence in him made something inside him bloom, and it was enough to quell his thoughts for now. Under the night sky, lit by the city’s lights, he was finally able to shut the door on the ugly thoughts that had haunted him for days, to the point where even his play had been affected.

Kuroo was right, and there really was no harm in trying to be a leader of his own making. After all, stereotypes were tiring. For the first time in a week, Tsukishima raised his head high, his head clear and his eyes returning to their bright colour.

Having noticed this, the cat-like senior in front of him smiled, Cheshire cat-grin as mischievous as ever.

“Anyway, now that you’re here Tsukki, it’s time you showed me your favourite food places. I’m starving!”

**Author's Note:**

> [come say hi!](https://twitter.com/nekohmy)


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